GIFT  OF 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM 
THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 


BY  ELSA  BARKER 

THE   SON    OF    MARY    BETHEL 

THE    FROZEN  GRAIL 

THE   BOOK    OF    LOVE 

THE    SONG    OF    SAVITRI 

STORIES  OF  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT  FOR 

CHILDREN 
THE   SCAB 

LETTERS     FROM     A    LIVING    DEAD    MAN 
WAR  LETTERS   FROM   THE    LIVING   DEAD 

MAN 


WAR  LETTERS 

FROM  THE 

LIVING  DEAD   MAN 

WRITTEN  DOWN 

BY 

ELSA  BARKER 
WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 


NEW  YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
1915 


COPYRIGHT,      1915,     BY 
MITCHELL    KENNERLEY 


CONTENTS 

LETTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  RETURN  OF  "X"  17 

II.  A  DWELLER  ON  THE  THRESHOLD  22 

III.  AN  ASSURANCE  27 

IV.  THE  WAY  OF  UNDERSTANDING  28 
V.  ASTRAL  MONSTERS  32 

VI.  THE  ARCHDUKE  38 

VII.  THE  "CHOSEN  PEOPLE"  43 

VIII.  SPECTRES  OF  THE  CONGO  49 

IX.  UNSEEN  GUARDIANS  54 

X.  ONE  DAY  AS  A  THOUSAND  YEARS  60 

XI.  MANY  TONGUES  66 

XII.  THE  BEAUTIFUL  BEING  67 

XIII.  THE  BODY  OF  HUMANITY  71 

XIV.  THE  FOEMAN  WITHIN  76 

XV.  LISTENING  IN  BRUSSELS  82 

XVI.  THE  SIXTH  RACE  88 

XVII.  AN  AMERICAN  ON  GUARD  95 

XVIII.  A  MASTER  OF  COMPASSION  100 

XIX.  THE  ROSE-VEILED  STRANGER  108 

XX.  ABOVE  THE  BATTLEFIELDS  118 

XXI.  A  SOUL  IN  PURGATORY  125 

XXII.  PEACE  PROPAGANDA  139 


CONTENTS 

LETTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  DESIRE  143 

XXIV.  THE  SCALES  OF  JUSTICE  148 

XXV.  FOR  LOVE'S  SAKE  155 

XXVI.  A  MASTER  OF  MIND  164 

XXVII.  INVISIBLE  ENEMIES  172 

XXVIII.  THE  GLORY  OF  WAR  178 

XXIX.  A  FRIEND  OF  "X"  181 

XXX.  THE  ROSE  AND  THE  CROSS  189 

XXXI.  A  SERBIAN  MAGICIAN  196 

XXXII.  JUDAS  AND  TYPHON  202 

XXXIII.  CROWNS  OF  STRAW  207 

XXXIV.  THE  SYLPH  AND  THE  FATHER  216 
XXXV.  BEHIND  THE  DARK  VEIL  223 

XXXVI.  THE  "LUSITANIA"  232 

XXXVII.  VEILED  PROPHECIES  237 

XXXVIII.  ADVICE  TO  A  SCRIBE  239 

XXXIX.  ONE  OF  THESE  LITTLE  ONES  245 

XL.  THE  HEIGHT  AND  THE  DEPTH  255 

XLI.  A  CONCLAVE  OF  MASTERS  256 

XLII.  A  LESSON  IN  THE  KABALA  260 

XLIII.  THE  SECOND  COMING  263 

XLIV.  POISON  GASES  269 

XLV.  THE  SUPERMAN  274 

XL VI.  THE  ENTERING  WEDGE  283 

XL VII.  THE  NEW  BROTHERHOOD  296 

XL VIII.  IN  THE  CRUCIBLE  301 

XLIX.  BLACK  MAGIC  IN  AMERICA  303 

L.  THINGS  TO  REMEMBER  311 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  the  Spring  of  1914  there  was  published 
in  London  and  New  York  a  book  of  mine 
called  "Letters  From  a  Living  Dead  Man," 
being  automatic  writings  from  an  American 
Judge  and  teacher  of  philosophy  who  had  been 
known  to  his  intimate  friends  as  "X." 

There  were  circumstances  connected  with 
the  writing  of  that  book,  explained  in  some 
detail  in  the  Introduction,  which  made  any 
other  hypothesis  than  that  of  genuine  commu- 
nication from  the  other  world  seem  untenable 
to  me.  It  began,  for  instance,  some  days  be- 
fore I  knew  in  Paris  that  my  friend  had  died 
on  the  Pacific  coast  of  America. 

In  that  first  book  of  "X"  I  did  not  state  who 
the  writer  was,  not  feeling  at  liberty  to  do  so 
without  the  consent  of  his  family;  but  in  the 
Summer  of  1914,  while  I  was  still  living  in 
Europe,  a  long  interview  with  Mr.  Bruce 
Hatch  appeared  in  the  New  York  Sunday 


•  £ :  .•*:  -.-*::..:  -INTRODUCTION 

World,  in  which  he  expressed  the  conviction 
that  the  "Letters"  were  genuine  communica- 
tions from  his  father,  the  late  Judge  David  P. 
Hatch,  of  Los  Angeles,  California. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  who  have  not  read 
the  former  book,  I  wish  to  say  that  "X"  was 
not  an  ordinary  man.  He  came  nearer  than 
any  other  Occidental  of  my  acquaintance  to 
that  mastery  of  self  and  of  life  which  has  been 
called  Adeptship. 

After  the  "Letters"  were  finished  in  1913, 
during  a  period  of  about  two  years  I  was  con- 
scious of  the  presence  of  "X"  only  on  two  or 
three  occasions,  when  he  wrote  some  brief  ad- 
vice in  regard  to  my  personal  affairs. 

On  the  fourth  of  February,  1915,  in  New 
York,  I  was  suddenly  made  aware  one  day  that 
"X"  stood  in  the  room  and  wished  to  write; 
but  as  always  before,  with  one  or  two  excep- 
tions, I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  what  he 
was  going  to  say.  He  wrote  as  follows: 

"When  I  come  back  and  tell  you  the  story 
of  this  war,  as  seen  from  the  other  side,  you 
will  know  more  than  all  the  Chancelleries  of 
the  nations." 


INTRODUCTION  3 

This  letter  I  confided  to  two  friends  who  had 
been  much  interested  in  the  former  book,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Vance  Thompson;  and  it  was  ar- 
ranged, with  the  cordial  consent  of  "X,"  that 
they  should  sit  with  me  about  once  a  week,  to 
make  a  better  "focus."  Their  loyal  faith  was 
a  great  support  to  me  during  the  first  half  of 
a  trying  labor. 

The  writing  was  not  confined  to  the  days 
when  we  three  sat  together;  but  about  a  third 
of  the  first  half  of  the  book  was  written  in  the 
presence  and  in  the  house  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thompson.  Then  they  went  to  California, 
and  I  continued  the  work  alone. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  some  readers  if  I 
describe  the  process  of  this  writing,  which  has 
changed  gradually  from  a  violent  and  mechan- 
ical seizure  of  the  hand  from  the  outside,  as  in 
the  beginning  of  the  first  book,  to  a  quiet  im- 
pression on  the  mind  within. 

If  the  reader  will  imagine  a  well-known 
friend  of  vivid  personality  present  with  him, 
then  subtract  from  that  impression  the  seeing 
of  the  physical  eye,  leaving  only  the  subtle  vi- 
bration of  the  actual  thinking  and  feeling  pres- 


4  INTRODUCTION 

ence,  then  add  the  indescribable  "inner  sight," 
he  may  begin  to  realize  how  I  know  that  "X" 
is  in  the  room. 

It  is  probable  that  Helen  Keller  knows  when 
her  friends  are  near  her,  and  can  tell  one  from 
the  other,  though  she  is  deaf  and  blind. 

When  made  aware  of  the  presence  of  "X," 
I  take  a  pencil  and  a  notebook,  as  any  other 
amanuensis  would,  and  by  an  effort  of  will, 
now  easy  from  long  practice,  I  still  the  activ- 
ity of  my  objective  mind,  until  there  is  no 
thought  or  shadow  of  a  thought  in  it.  Then 
into  the  brain  itself  come  the  words,  which  flow 
out  without  conscious  effort  at  the  point  of  the 
pencil.  It  is  exactly  as  if  I  heard  the  dicta- 
tion with  a  single  auditory  instrument,  like  a 
small  and  very  sensitive  sphere,  in  the  centre  of 
the  brain. 

I  never  know  at  the  beginning  of  a  sentence 
how  it  will  end.  I  never  know  whether  the 
sentence  I  am  writing  will  be  the  last  or  if  two 
thousand  words  will  follow  it.  I  simply  write 
on,  in  a  state  of  voluntary  negativity,  until  the 
impression  of  personality  described  above 
leaves  suddenly.  Then  no  more  words  come. 
The  writing  is  at  an  end  for  that  time. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

The  question  will  naturally  arise  in  the  mind 
of  the  skeptical  reader  (it  has  in  mine), 
whether  my  own  subconscious  mind  has  not 
itself  dictated  the  following  "War  Letters 
from  the  Living  Dead  Man/'  in  the  attempt 
to  explain  a  world  tragedy  which  would  have 
seemed  impossible  two  years  ago. 

But  from  my  long  experience  in  writing  for 
"X,"  and  from  the  fact  that  during  two  years 
I  had  not  written  for  him  except  on  two  or 
three  unimportant  occasions,  though  often 
thinking  of  him,  and  from  my  acquired  habit 
of  minute  observation  of  supernormal  phe- 
nomena, I  now  feel  safe  in  assuming  that  I 
know  the  difference  between  the  actual  pres- 
ence of  "X"  and  my  own  imagination  of  him, 
my  reminiscence  of  him,  or  even  the  sugges- 
tion of  his  presence  from  another's  mind. 

No  person  who  had  had  even  a  minute  frac- 
tion of  my  occult  experience  could  be  more 
coldly  critical  of  that  experience  than  I  am.  I 
freely  welcome  every  logical  argument  against 
the  belief  that  these  letters  are  what  they  pur- 
port to  be;  but  placing  those  arguments  in 
opposition  to  the  evidence  which  I  have  of  the 


6  INTRODUCTION 

genuineness  of  them,  the  affirmations  outweigh 
the  denials,  and  I  accept  them. 

This  evidence  is  too  complex  and  much  of  it 
too  personal  to  be  even  outlined  here;  but  the 
Letter  XXXVI,  written  one  hour  after  the 
sinking  of  the  Lusitania  and  nine  hours  before 
I  knew  of  it,  is  merely  one  incident  out  of 
dozens.  Also  it  may  be  considered  at  least  an 
interesting  coincidence  that  at  the  very  time  I 
began  writing  this  second  book,  three  occult 
students,  in  different  countries,  wrote  me  that 
they  felt  that  "X"  had  come  back  and  would 
write  again  through  my  hand.  Since  then  sev- 
eral other  persons  have  so  expressed  themselves 
by  word  or  pen. 

Many  of  the  events  of  this  war  I  myself 
have  seen  "astrally"  at  the  time  of  their  occur- 
rence. '  I  was  a  wide-awake  astral  participant 
in  the  first  action  in  which  the  British  army  was 
engaged  on  the  Continent,  and  related  the  ex- 
perience to  a  British  officer  in  England  before 
it  was  reported  there,  my  narrative  being  veri- 
fied the  following  day  by  a  French  newspaper 
brought  over  from  Paris  by  a  friend. 

I  saw  in  New  York  the  shelling  of  Scar- 
borough at  the  hour  when  it  occurred,  and  re- 


INTRODUCTION  7 

lated  the  incident  to  a  friend  some  hours  before 
it  was  reported  in  the  newspapers;  though  I 
did  not  know  the  name  of  the  English  coast 
town  where  I  had  seen  the  assault. 

Nevertheless,  I  cannot  read  what  is  in  the 
mind  of  "X"  even  when  I  am  conscious  that 
he  is  actually  present  in  the  room.  I  know 
only  what  he  dictates,  and  have  no  idea  how 
much  or  how  little  he  knows.  He  has  stated 
in  one  of  the  letters  that  he  should  tell  me  only 
what  his  judgment  approved  from  time  to  time. 

There  is  one  point  where  I  myself  do  not 
quite  follow  "X."  Sometimes  when  he  says 
that  the  German  people  are  so  and  so,  had  I 
been  writing  I  should  have  said  the  Prussians. 
I  have  many  German  friends,  and  I  cannot 
hold  them  individually  accountable  for  the 
awful  conditions  into  which  their  government 
has  plunged  the  world. 

I  must  emphasize  that  I  do  not  assume  per- 
sonal responsibility  for  what  "X"  writes,  but 
merely  record  his  words. 

It  did  not  occur  to  me  until  several  days 
after  his  last  letter  was  written,  on  July  28th, 
that  he  had  finished  the  war  book  exactly  one 
year  from  the  date  of  the  first  declaration  of 


8  INTRODUCTION 

war,  that  of  Austria  against  Serbia,  and  on  the 
very  day  when  the  Pope  sent  out  his  great 
appeal  for  peace. 

In  his  former  writing,  which  began  more 
than  three  years  ago,  "X"  requested  that  I 
should  never  summon  him,  and  later  advised 
me  not  to  ask  questions.  I  have  therefore 
generally  refrained  from  doing  either;  though 
the  temptation  has  often  been  great  to  ask  him 
as  to  the  final  issue  of  this  war  by  which  I  have 
been  so  profoundly  affected.  But  I  knew  that 
such  questioning  might  stimulate  the  action  of 
my  own  objective  mind  and  becloud  my  recep- 
tivity. I  have  recently  shrunk  from  seeking 
for  such  answers  even  in  my  hypnogogic  vis- 
ions, lest  I  should  see  something  which  would 
make  me  less  negative  in  the  reception  of  these 
letters. 

This  situation  seems  to  have  cured  me  for- 
ever of  curiosity ;  it  has  made  me  feel  detached 
as  a  comet  and  almost  as  lonely,  and  strong 
enough  to  be  willing  to  remain  so.  But,  by  a 
strange  paradox,  as  my  hatred  for  the  brutali- 
ties of  this  war  grew  deeper  and  deeper,  my 
love  for  all  those  struggling  human  souls  in 


INTRODUCTION  9 

every  camp  grew  with  it,  until  I  came  to  feel 
that  each  one  of  all  those  millions  who  died  and 
suffered  on  those  battlefields  was  my  brother 
and  my  friend.  Love  is  a  miracle  that  touches 
the  brutal  facts  of  life  and  makes  them  divine. 

In  the  third  letter  of  this  book,  dated  March 
10th,  "X"  said  that  the  forces  of  good  had 
overpowered  the  forces  of  evil  and  that  peace 
would  return  to  the  world — though  he  did  not 
say  when.  Before  I  learned  of  the  Lusitania 
sinking,  but  one  hour  after  it  had  actually 
taken  place,  he  wrote  that  the  demons  whom 
the  workers  out  there  had  driven  back  had  ral- 
lied and  returned  to  the  assault,  and  that  he 
ought  to  have  known  that  the  very  Law  of 
Rhythm  would  drive  them  forward  again  after 
they  had  generated  another  supply  of  energy. 

In  the  light  of  rhythmic  law,  that  letter  is 
to  me  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  book. 
It  illustrates  what  he  has  said  so  often,  that 
even  the  "living  dead"  do  not  know  everything, 
and  that  the  reason  why  they  know  so  much 
more  than  we  do  is  because  they  have  a  wider 
vision  and  a  greater  fund  of  data  on  which  to 
base  their  conclusions. 


10  INTRODUCTION 

In  regard  to  that  second  onslaught  of  the 
powers  of  darkness,  it  is  perhaps  significant 
that  the  letter  describing  his  first  conversation 
with  the  "dark-veiled  one"  was  written  next 
before  the  Lusitania  letter. 

Aside  from  his  narrative,  two  major  ideas 
seem  to  dominate  "X"  in  this  writing:  the 
mystery  of  good  and  evil  (love  and  hate),  and 
the  brotherhood  of  man. 

Through  his  soul-challenging  exposition  of 
the  conflict  between  good  and  evil,  both  in  the 
human  heart  and  in  the  universe,  a  man  might 
learn  to  protect  himself  against  his  own  evil 
as  well  as  against  the  evil  outside  him. 

In  pursuit  of  this  end  "X"  has  revealed 
certain  mysteries  to  which  the  attention  of 
the  common  man  has  not  heretofore  been  ef- 
fectively called. 

That  there  is  an  "astral  world"  permeating 
and  extending  beyond  the  world  of  dense  mat- 
ter has  been  stated  in  Theosophical  and  other 
literature;  "X"  makes  his  readers  realize  the 
fact.  The  astral  world  is  said  to  be  the  world 
of  feeling  and  desire;  and  it  is  through  man's 
astral,  feeling  or  desire  body,  made  of  a  ten- 


INTRODUCTION  11 

uous  kind  of  matter  invisible  to  untrained  eyes, 
that  he  connects  with  and  functions  in  that 
world. 

Within  and  beyond  this  again  is  said  to  be 
the  thought  world,  and  the  theory  is  that  man 
has  also  a  thought  body  through  which  he  con- 
tacts with  and  functions  in  it.  And  so  on, 
plane  after  plane,  till  man  reaches  the  form- 
less and  the  universal,  in  other  words  pure 
divinity. 

The  evil  astral  beings  described  by  "X"  are 
beings  dwelling  in  the  astral  world.  Some  of 
them  have  no  physical  bodies  in  the  material 
world ;  others  are  the  more  or  less  independent 
astral  selves  of  men,  which  during  sleep  go 
here  and  there  in  the  world  invisible  to  our 
open  eyes.  They  have  been  active  in  this  war. 

There  are  also  said  to  be  beings  of  the  ele- 
ments, earth,  air,  fire  and  water,  who  are 
evolving  along  a  line  different  from  that  of 
man.  Some  of  these  are  amiable,  some  are 
malicious.  Much  information  about  these  ele- 
mentals  can  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Para- 
celsus. They  also  have  been  active  in  this  war. 

Other  and  superior  beings  work  on  all  three 
planes,  physical,  astral  and  mental,  and  in  still 


12  INTRODUCTION 

higher  worlds  beyond  our  cognizance.  But  for 
the  beneficent  activity  of  some  of  these,  man- 
kind would  destroy  itself  or  be  destroyed. 

"X"  says  that  the  feelings  of  hatred  and  the 
sufferings  engendered  by  the  great  war  have 
made  the  astral  world  at  this  time  a  very  un- 
pleasant place  of  sojourn.  The  purgatory  of 
the  Roman  Catholics  is  the  same  thing  as  the 
place  of  post-mortem  trial  described  by  "X". 
The  Church  hafc  great  knowledge. 

Good  and  evil  may  be  called  opposite  and 
complementary  forces,  one  working  in  har- 
mony with  the  Law  of  the  Universe  (otherwise 
called  the  will  of  God),  the  other  working  dis- 
harmoniously with  that  Law. 

Some  readers  may  be  shocked  by  what  "X" 
says  of  black  magic.  He  is  not  writing  to 
shock  them,  but  to  protect  and  instruct  them. 
Superstition  has  been  called  the  dark  side  of 
religion;  but  superstition  is  to  be  understood, 
not  dismissed  with  the  lifting  of  superior  eye- 
brows. All  things  are  to  be  understood.  The 
great  psychologists,  scientists,  do  not  now 
consider  these  subjects  beneath  their  investi- 
gation. Refer  to  Professor  William  James, 
to  Sir  Oliver  Lodge,  to  Dr.  Baraduc.  The 


INTRODUCTION  13 

names  of  recognized  scientists  who  are  now  in- 
vestigating occult  phenomena  would  fill  a  small 
directory.  When  I  admit  that  I  am  seeking 
to  chart  the  unseen  world,  I  am  modestly  en- 
rolling myself  in  good  company. 

"X"  speaks  of  the  "dark-veiled  one"  who 
inspired  Nietzsche  in  the  misleading  of  young 
Germany.  Perhaps  behind  every  powerful 
man  or  woman  whose  work  has  told  in  the 
world  there  has  been  an  invisible  one,  either 
light  or  dark- veiled.  The  question  is  not  with- 
out interest,  both  practical  and  theoretical.  In- 
spiration, like  magic,  may  be  either  black  or 
white. 

The  "voices"  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  would  in  our 
day  be  called  clairaudient  phenomena.  His- 
tory declares  that  they  rendered  her  more,  not 
less,  efficient  as  the  saviour  of  France.  Martin 
Luther  threw  his  ink-pot  at  "the  devil";  but 
the  Reformation  was  no  less  ably  engineered 
because  Luther  had  visions.  Saul  of  Tarsus 
also  had  a  vision,  if  we  may  credit  the  re- 
porters. 

"X"  speaks  of  his  own  Teacher,  a  "Master." 
When  I  compare  the  California  Judge  whom 
I  knew  with  most  of  the  men  and  women  with 


14  INTRODUCTION 

whom  I  prattle  about  commonplaces,  I  do  not 
find  it  difficult  to  admit  the  possibility  that 
man  may  progress  even  further  than  "X," 
given  the  resolution  so  to  do.  If  "X"  became 
what  he  was  in  a  little  less  than  seventy  years, 
there  is  hope  for  us  who  look  forward  to 
eternity. 

The  second  major  idea  of  these  "War  Let- 
ters" seems  to  be  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

The  world  has  progressed  thus  far  through 
a  series  of  well-marked  periods,  and  by  means 
of  a  series  of  predominant  races  which  stamped 
their  time  with  their  own  peculiar  color.  "X" 
says  that  a  new  race,  the  Sixth  Race  so-called, 
is  about  to  arise  now  in  the  United  States. 

If  America  would  accept  this  idea  as  a 
working  hypothesis — not  another  "Deutsch- 
land  iiber  Alles"  but  say  "America  for  (not 
over)  all" — she  might  build  a  peace-machine  as 
Germany  has  built  a  war-machine.  If  she 
should  go  about  it  with  the  same  thoroughness, 
postulating  the  ideal  brotherhood  as  Germany 
has  postulated  world-dominion,  she  might 
make  a  demonstration  in  the  next  generation. 
In  the  mixture  of  races  in  America  she  has  all 


INTRODUCTION  15 

the  materials  for  any  kind  of  spiritual  experi- 
ment. Asia  and  Europe  would  look  on  with 
interest.  England,  Germany,  and  France, 
even  Japan  who  is  spiritual  underneath  and 
material  only  on  the  surface,  perhaps  Russia 
above  all,  would  respect  such  an  avowed  pur- 
pose. It  may  be  that  the  world  will  have  suf- 
fered enough  by  the  end  of  this  war  to  be  ready 
to  welcome  universal  brotherhood. 

Already  there  are  movements  in  America 
which  would  gladly  fall  into  line.  "X"  speaks 
of  the  Woodcraft  movement,  a  loosely  organ- 
ized body  of  perhaps  a  hundred  thousand  men 
and  boys  and  a  few  women,  who  in  their  play- 
time have  gone  back  to  Nature  and  the  camp- 
fire  for  that  fraternity  which  cities  do  not  give. 

"X"  says  that  he  has  another  service  to  per- 
form in  the  future.  I  do  not  know  what  that 
service  is,  nor  whether  I  have  any  part  in  it; 
but  if  he  should  one  day  declare  to  me  that  it 
was  in  connection  with  the  Woodcraft  purpose, 
I  should  not  be  surprised. 

But  after  living  for  months  with  this  war 
book,  I  cannot  yet  see  it  in  perspective  nor 
gauge  its  value.  I  give  it  to  the  world  because 


16  INTRODUCTION 

it  seems  to  belong  to  the  world,  and  because 
among  the  thousand  letters  which  I  have  re- 
ceived from  the  readers  of  "Letters  From  a 
Living  Dead  Man,"  so  many  have  asked  for 
further  writings  of  "X."  The  first  book  is 
now  being  translated  into  four  European  lan- 
guages, and  other  translations  have  been  of- 
fered. 

I  want  to  thank  all  those  persons  in  many 
countries  who  have  written  me  so  kindly  about 
the  book.  It  was  more  for  them  than  for  my- 
self that  I  embraced  the  offered  opportunity 
to  hear  what  "X"  had  to  say  about  the  Great 
War.  To  receive  genuine  communications 
from  the  other  world  (assuming  as  I  must  that 
such  communication  is  possible)  involves  sac- 
rifice on  the  part  of  the  amanuensis,  even  in 
the  protected  quiet  of  a  country  home.  To 
do  it  in  a  great  rushing  city  like  New  York, 
amidst  the  distractions  of  a  complex  social  life, 
and  during  a  war  like  this  by  whose  horrors 
the  "sensitive"  is  especially  buffetted,  and  in  a 
clashing  pro- German  pro- Allies  environment, 
has  been  an  education  in  self-control. 

But  the  war  cannot  last  forever,  and  some 
day  joy  will  come  back  to  the  world. 
New  York,  Sept.,  1915.          ELSA  BARKER. 


DAVID  PATTERSON  HATCH 

Born  Dresden,  Maine,  November  22,  1846 
Died  Los  Angeles,  California,  February  21,  1912 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM 
THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

LETTER  I 

THE  RETURN  OF  "x" 

IN  a  far  away  star  I  heard  the  command: 
"Go  back  to  the  earth,  and  learn  the  mys- 
teries of  love  and  hate." 
I  did  not  know  to  what  I  was  going,  but 
went  as  commanded. 

As  I  neared  the  earth  an  army  of  angry 
beings  sought  to  bar  my  way.  "What 
are  you  doing  here?"  they  cried.  "This  is  our 
field,  and  we  brook  no  interference." 

I  called  to  the  Teacher,  and  he  stood  beside 
me.  Even  he  was  grave  at  the  power  of  the 
forces  before  us. 

"It  has  come,"  the  Teacher  said;  "it  has  come 
suddenly,  after  a  long  preparation." 

Wrath  is  a  cosmic  force,  and  hate  is  a  cosmic 
force,  and  love  is  a  cosmic  force,  and  fear  is 


18     WAS  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

a  cosmic  force.  Did  you  think  that  love  was 
a  pretty  sentiment?  Did  you  think  that  hate 
was  a  mere  annoyance?  I  have  seen  the  sources 
of  wrath  and  hate  and  love  and  fear,  and 
that  my  experience  may  be  of  use  in  helping 
men  to  understand  the  forces  working  in  and 
behind  the  race,  I  have  made  the  effort  to 
write  for  the  world  again. 

This  war  is  more  than  a  war  of  men;  it  is 
more  than  a  war  of  angels.  Its  roots  are  in 
Necessity  itself. 

A  new  race  has  to  be  born,  and  races  like 
men  are  born  in  the  pain  and  the  blood  of  their 
predecessors.  But  as  "the  curse  of  Eve"  came 
through  her  listening  to  the  envious  serpent 
of  evil,  so  this  curse  has  come  upon  the  world 
through  mankind's  listening  to  the  suggestions 
of  envy  and  hate  from  the  forces  of  evil  within 
and  around  the  world. 

I  have  seen  those  forces  in  forms,  I  have 
faced  them  and  wrestled  with  them.  I  am 
strong  because  I  have  struggled. 

I  came  back  to  the  world  nearly  five  weeks 
before  war  was  declared  on  earth,  but  war  was 
already  declared  in  the  spaces  above  the  earth. 
As  the  nations  had  long  been  getting  ready 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     19 

their  forces,  so  the  entities  outside  were  ready 
and  in  arms.  The  demons  who  met  me — for 
they  were  demons — had  triumph  in  their  eyes. 

A  beginning  had  been  made,  a  seed  of  anger 
sown  in  the  heart  of  Austria.  And  the  seed 
was  watered  in  the  ground  by  those  who  felt 
that  their  harvest  was  approaching. 

You  must  understand  that  evil  is  co-existent 
with  good  so  long  as  the  egos  of  men  evolve. 
The  forces  of  good  and  the  forces  of  evil  are 
complementary.  They  are  in  actual  forms, 
they  have  acquired  egos;  their  concentration 
on  their  work  would  shame  the  greatest  gen- 
iuses among  men. 

But  they  too  are  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously servants  of  that  Cosmic  Will  whose  de- 
signs we  call  the  will  of  God. 

I  have  learned  much  since  the  days  when  I 
entertained  you  with  stories  of  the  newly-dead 
who  had  died  serenely  in  their  beds  and  had 
gone  out  into  the  astral  world  as  into  an  ad- 
joining room.  A  million  souls  have  gone  out 
recently,  shocked,  torn,  mangled,  buffetted  by 
their  own  hate  and  the  hate  of  those  who  sought 
to  destroy  them. 


20     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Pity  those  who  have  died  even  tranquilly 
during  the  last  eight  months.  They  have 
passed  through  a  region  of  torment — those 
who  have  passed  through.  Many  have  re- 
mained below,  spun  round  and  round  in  the 
whirlpool  with  those  who  died  by  war. 

Had  I  not  a  great  purpose,  and  the  convic- 
tion of  a  great  mission,  in  thus  revealing  the 
secrets  of  the  other  world  at  this  time,  I  should 
not  harrow  your  feelings  by  a  recital  of  what 
I  have  seen  and  sometimes  taken  part  in  since 
my  return  from  that  journey  among  the  stars. 

Comfort  yourself — if  you  need  comfort — 
by  my  assurance  that  the  race  is  passing 
through  a  rite  of  initiation.  Those  who  have 
died  in  the  service  of  an  unselfish  enthusiasm 
will  in  time  rebody  themselves  and  reap  on  the 
earth  the  fruits  of  their  service.  But  not  all 
who  have  died  have  been  filled  with  this  en- 
thusiasm. Many  have  hated  for  hate's  own 
sake.  They  are  the  ones  who  have  failed. 

Pity  them  if  you  must,  but  it  is  better  not 
to  think  about  them.  They  are  the  willing  vic- 
tims of  the  demons  who  sought  to  bar  my  way, 
when  I  was  commanded  to  return  to  the  world 
and  learn  the  mysteries  of  love  and  hate. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     21 

Love!  Yes,  there  has  been  more  love  born 
of  this  war  than  the  earth  has  known  in  all  the 
two  thousand  years  of  Christianity.  For  the 
human  race  is  awake  at  last,  and  that  it  may  not 
go  to  sleep  again  is  my  purpose  in  once  more 
breaking  through  the  wall  that  separates  me 
from  you. 

March  5, 1915. 


LETTER  II 

A  DWELLER   ON   THE   THRESHOLD 

THERE  was  one  demon  who  seemed  to  be 
a  leader  of  demons.  He  was  unlike 
many  of  the  others — more  personal, 
more  egocentric. 

As  we  stood  opposite  each  other  I  entered 
into  conversation  with  him,  partly  to  satisfy  my 
curiosity,  partly  to  throw  him  off  his  guard. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked.  "You  seem  to 
be  a  ruler  among  your  kind." 

He  straightened  himself  with  pride. 

"I  am  indeed  a  ruler,"  he  said,  "a  ruler  on 
earth  and  up  here." 

"On  earth  also?"  I  queried. 

"Yes,  also  on  earth,"  he  answered,  "for  I  am 
the  deeper  self  of  a  man  who  is  great  among 
men,  a  man  who  will  follow  my  will  as  others 
follow  his  will."  Then  he  made  a  claim  which 
startled  me,  and  I  forbear  to  repeat  it. 

"If  you  are  the  evil  self  of  a  man  still  liv- 
ing," I  demanded,  "how  do  you  stand  as  a 


WAR  LETTERS  FBOM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     23 

separate  entity  up  here?  How  are  you  apart 
from  him?" 

"You  are  somewhat  ignorant,"  he  said  to  me. 

"I  am  ignorant  of  many  things,"  I  admitted. 
"Instruct  me  in  any  way  you  can.  I  have  a 
thirst  for  knowledge." 

"Know  then,"  he  said  pompously,  "that  I 
broke  away  from  the  earthly  form  that  had 
enchained  me  when  he  acknowledged  my  ruler- 
ship  and  worshipped  me  as  his  genius." 

"He  set  you  free?"  I  asked. 

"He  set  me  free  by  acknowledging  me  as 
his  Master.  His  knowledge  is  even  less  than 
yours,  and  he  called  me  by  a  name  that  I  des- 
pise ;  but  so  long  as  I  rule  I  care  not  the  name 
I  rule  by.  Or  I  care  little,"  he  corrected  him- 
self. "But  such  things  as  these  are  too  deep 
for  you!" 

"I  am  deeper  than  you  think,"  I  asserted, 
"and  I  have  met  your  kind  before." 

"My  kind  maybe,  but  not  my  equals.  I  am 
a  King  among  spirits." 

"I  had  observed  your  crown,"  I  said,  "it  has 
a  familiar  look." 

During  this  colloquy  the  Teacher  had  stood 
silently  by,  but  now  I  turned  to  him  with  an 


24     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

unspoken  question.  He  led  me  aside  a  little 
way,  and  said: 

"When  a  man  exalts  himself  too  much,  he 
sets  free  the  demon  within  him.  He  often 
thinks  that  he  rules  the  demon,  and  sends  him 
on  errands  through  the  Invisible;  but  it  is 
really  the  demon  who  commands,  and  the  com- 
mands of  the  man  are  only  echoes." 

"And  it  took  this  vision  of  hell  to  teach  me 
that!"  I  exclaimed. 

"What  you  would  have  learned  in  due  time 
by  reason  or  by  precept,  you  now  learn  by  ex- 
ample," the  Teacher  said.  "You  have  truly 
beheld  the  evil  self  of  a  great  ruler." 

"It  is  very  powerful,"  I  admitted. 

"It  will  grow  in  power  for  a  time,"  the 
Teacher  said,  "and  then  it  will  go  to  Gehenna." 

"And  when  will  it  go  to  Gehenna?" 

"When  peace  returns  to  the  world,  after  the 
war  is  exhausted  up  here.  But  the  war  will 
be  exhausted  up  here  before  peace  returns  to 
the  world." 

"What  war  is  about  to  be  fought?"  I  asked. 

"The  greatest  war  of  all  time,"  the  Teacher 
said,  "the  greatest  war  of  all  time  up  here,  and 
also  on  the  earth." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     25 

"And  when  will  it  begin?" 

"It  is  already  begun  here,  as  you  have  seen. 
Had  you  not  been  far  away  you  would  have 
known  it  before." 

"I  have  indeed  been  far  away/'  I  said.  "An 
angel  has  shown  me  many  stars,  and  I  have 
learned  much." 

"The  angel  kept  you  away  from  the  world 
until  you  should  be  strong  enough,  and  rested 
enough,  to  work  as  well  as  learn." 

"And  where  does  my  work  lie?"  I  asked. 

"In  many  fields,"  he  answered.  "But  first 
you  must  fight  your  way  through  the  astral 
world  above  Europe  and  save  your  friends 
who  are  in  danger." 

Swimming  the  Hellespont  was  a  minor  feat 
compared  to  swimming  that  sea  of  devils,  but 
I  got  through.  A  year  before  I  could  not 
have  done  it,  perhaps,  for  the  forces  of  good 
were  overpowered.  There  is  a  tide  in  good 
and  evil,  as  well  as  a  tide  in  the  sea.  Evil  was 
at  the  flood. 

I  saved  one  friend  in  danger,  and  saw  that 
another  was  safe. 

Back  in  the  sea  of  hate,  when  I  was  nearly 
exhausted,  the  Beautiful  Being,  that  angel 


26     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

who  had  been  my  guide  so  long,  came  and  whis- 
pered something  in  my  ear.  It  was  a  spur  to 
ambition. 

"You  may  be  the  historian  of  this  great 
struggle,"  it  said,  "if  you  do  not  fail  in  your 
tasks." 

Do  not  be  startled  by  the  word  "ambition." 
There  are  many  kinds  of  ambition,  and  a  sin- 
cere wish  to  be  personally  of  service  may  as 
well  be  called  by  that  name  as  by  any  other, 
if  there  is  love  behind  it. 

March  6. 


LETTER  III 

AN  ASSURANCE 

TAKE  it  from  me  at  this  early  stage  of 
our  writing:  The  forces  of  good  over- 
powered the  forces  of  evil  a  month  ago, 
and  the  issue  is  settled  here.     The  power  set 
in  motion  will  spend  itself,  and  peace  will  re- 
turn to  the  world. 

March  10. 


LETTER  IV 

THE  WAY  OF  UNDERSTANDING 

BEFORE  I  tell  you  any  more  horrors,  I 
want  to  assure  you  now  that  out  of  those 
horrors  will  come  a  beauty  such  as  the 
world  has  not  known  during  this  cycle  of  ex- 
istence. 

It  will  not  come  at  once,  for  many  adjust- 
ments will  have  to  be  made;  but  the  way  is 
open  already  for  those  who  choose  to  walk 
in  it. 

It  is  a  curious  commentary  on  unregenerate 
humanity,  this  war  in  which  each  side  declares 
loudly  its  own  righteousness  and  execrates  its 
opponent.  As  in  all  quarrels,  there  is  more 
wrong  on  one  side  than  on  the  other;  but  the 
side  which  triumphs — and  it  will  be  the  side  that 
has  least  wrong — will  have  to  understand  and 
to  forgive  its  enemy  before  it  can  go  forward 
to  its  own  great  future. 

Though  international  organizations  have 
failed  for  the  time  being,  I  am  not  discouraged 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     29 

about  international  organizations.  They  were 
merely  shocked  into  failure,  the  peace  people, 
the  socialists,  and  others  who  make  far  higher 
claims  to  the  ideal  of  universal  brotherhood. 

Even  now,  during  the  stress  of  the  conflict, 
go  out  yourself  in  thought  and  in  love  to  that 
nation  which  you  feel  to  be  your  enemy.  Try 
to  understand  it.  And  do  not  try  to  under- 
stand it  by  telling  yourself  that  it  is  evil.  That 
is  not  understanding.  There  is  evil  in  all  men. 
Try  to  understand  it  by  becoming  it,  for  the 
time.  Put  yourself  in  its  place;  feel  as  you 
would  feel  if  you  stood  alone — even  though  by 
your  own  fault — with  the  whole  world  against 
you. 

You  draw  back  a  little  with  the  thought  that 
you  could  not  have  placed  yourself  in  a  posi- 
tion where  the  world  for  its  own  protection 
would  be  obliged  to  range  itself  against  you. 
But  are  you  sure? 

By  entering  the  consciousness  of  that  nation 
you  are  placing  yourself  in  such  a  position,  and 
I  tell  you  to  do  it  temporarily,  in  order  that 
you  may  be  a  centre,  a  beginning,  an  infinitesi- 
mal part  of  that  international  comprehension 
and  pardon  which  must  become  general  to  a 


30     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

degree  before  the  long-heralded  and  always 
misunderstood  Universal  Brotherhood  can 
even  begin  to  find  room  for  itself  in  this  un- 
brotherly  world. 

If  all  those  aggregations  of  people  who  have 
long  believed  that  they  stood  for  this  ideal 
would  now  try  to  make  peace  with  one  another, 
if  they  would  acknowledge  the  ideals  of  one 
another,  however  much  the  working-plans  of 
those  ideals  may  differ,  a  force  could  even  now 
be  set  in  motion  that  would  shorten  this  war 
and  lessen  the  number  of  those  who  must  die 
for  their  conflicting  ideals  of  national  honor 
and  loyalty. 

In  the  reaction  from  hate  to  love,  in  the  re- 
action from  criticism  to  understanding  that 
will  follow  a  formal  declaration  of  peace,  all 
these  quarrelling  spiritual  organizations  may 
if  they  will,  begin  to  work  harmoniously.  If 
their  members  cannot  bring  themselves,  because 
of  their  narrow  pride  and  the  memory  of  all 
the  harsh  things  which  they  have  said  against 
one  another  in  the  past — if  they  are  too  meanly 
afraid  of  eating  their  words,  publicly  to  ac- 
knowledge one  another  as  brethren,  let  them 
begin  to  feel  thus  in  their  hearts.  Perhaps  in 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     31 

time  the  greater  courage  will  come,  and  some 
daring  leader  will  say  to  his  flock  that  those 
with  whom  they  once  worked,  with  trust  and 
the  profession  of  love,  may  be  trying,  accord- 
ing to  their  lights,  to  serve  the  ideal. 

I  do  not  know  that  any  further  elaboration 
of  this  idea  would  make  it  any  clearer  to  you, 
and  these  remarks  are  only  an  interlude,  a  re- 
lief, in  the  tension  of  the  story  which  I  have 
to  tell. 

March  13. 


LETTER  V 

ASTRAL  MONSTERS 

DID  you  know  that  I  was  near  you  when 
you  crossed  the  North  Sea  more  than 
two  weeks  before  war  was  declared, 
crossed  to  England  under  an  irresistible,  an 
overwhelming  impulse  to  get  away  from  the 
continent  of  Europe  and  back  to  the  people  of 
your  own  blood?  I  was  near  you. 

But  I  did  not  remain  when  you  were  safe 
with  your  friends.  I  returned  to  the  centre  of 
war  determinism,  went  back  to  that  land  which, 
despite  all  protestations  to  the  contrary, 
hatched  out  the  egg  which  an  irresponsible  bird 
had  laid  in  the  region  farther  south. 

Did  I  say  irresponsible?  Only  a  madman 
is  irresponsible  for  his  acts.  Let  me  say  rather 
deluded,  for  not  all  deluded  souls  are  mad. 
The  hand  that  slew  the  Austrian  Archduke  was 
used,  as  others  have  been  used,  by  the  forces 
working  against  progress.  Pity  that  man  also, 
and  let  the  law  of  cause  and  effect  deal  with 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     33 

him  as  it  must,  for  there  is  no  favoritism  in 
that  court  and  no  appeal  to  a  higher  jurisdic- 
tion. 

I  returned  to  Germany.  It  will  be  neces- 
sary in  this  writing  to  call  spades,  spades.  If  I 
hurt  anybody's  feelings,  I  am  not  writing  to 
hurt  anybody's  feelings.  Facts  are  facts,  and 
no  specious  pleading  can  change  them. 

I  returned  to  Germany.  I  listened  to  war 
counsels.  I  heard  orders  given,  for  by  a  spe- 
cial hardening  of  my  astral  ears  I  can  hear 
what  is  spoken  in  the  world  of  men  and  hear 
very  distinctly.  My  astral  body  is  a  well-lubri- 
cated though  tenuous  machine  that  answers  to 
the  lightest  touch  of  my  will. 

But  do  not  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  all 
astral  bodies  are  like  mine.  Remember  that  I 
am  the  pupil  of  a  great  Master,  and  that  his 
purposes  are  not  his  purposes  but  those  of  the 
law  of  progress  which  he  serves. 

I  saw  again  the  monster  of  which  I  wrote 
you  in  my  second  letter.  They  speak  truth 
who  say  that  the  German  Emperor  did  hesitate 
to  touch  the  spring  which  should  open  the  doors 
of  hell.  The  War  Lord  had  a  certain  pride 


34     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

in  his  record  as  a  Peace  Lord,  and  he  shivered 
at  the  responsibility  that  faced  him  while  gloat- 
ing in  that  responsibility,  which  further  exalted 
his  already  self -exalted  ego. 

Pity  him  too,  but  do  not  sentimentalize  over 
him.  Will  is  free.  In  yielding  his  will  to  the 
evil  genius  he  was  exercising  free  will.  But 
those  eyes  of  his  were  wet  in  the  night  and  he 
did  pray  to  the  Force  he  calls  his  God.  The 
name  of  God  was  not  only  on  his  lips  but  in 
his  inner  thoughts.  God  is  a  word  that  means 
many  things  to  many  persons. 

There  were  also  in  that  conclave  of  evil  spir- 
its many  who  were  not  attached  to  individual 
men.  There  were  vast  elemental  beings. 
When  Lytton  wrote,  in  one  of  his  occult  novels, 
of  a  gigantic  foot  which  stepped  through  a  gap 
in  the  magic  circle  drawn  by  a  black  magician 
in  the  primeval  wilderness,  he  referred  to  a  fact 
in  Nature. 

Nature !  You  with  your  narrow  sight  have 
no  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the  term.  All  your 
studies  have  not  taught  you  even  the  alphabet 
that  Nature  uses.  Learn  that  alphabet.  Be- 
gin to  study  that  language.  Study  chemistry, 
biology,  electricity,  and  study  the  mysteries  of 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    35 

the  vibrations  of  matter  on  as  many  planes  as 
you  can  consciously  reach.  The  knowledge  of 
the  future  lies  there.  Man  has  only  begun  the 
conquest  of  Nature. 

Any  expression  of  hate  which  you  ever  beheld 
in  the  material  world  was  only  a  weak  replica 
of  the  hate  that  was  let  loose  upon  the  earth 
when  the  hour  struck  last  year,  the  hour  when 
the  orbits  of  certain  planetary  bodies  blended 
their  influences  and  allowed  a  free  passage  for 
beings  who  are  generally  more  limited  in  their 
freedom  of  movement. 

The  giant  foot!  I  saw  the  great  being  to 
whom  such  a  foot  belonged.  It  was  a  being 
of  the  air,  but  earth  beings  were  allied  with  it 
and  monsters  from  the  deeper  circles  of  mat- 
ter where  the  light  of  the  sun  never  shines. 

Will  you  let  me  describe  one  of  those  beings? 
You  need  not  fear  it  now  for  it  has  been  driven 
back  to  its  lair  in  the  bowels  of  the  planet.  A 
gross  bluish  bag-like  body,  with  a  long  fat  tail 
covered  with  bristles,  arms  and  legs  like  elon- 
gated bags,  and  a  head  that  was  a  larger  and 
half -submerged  bag  in  the  rolls  of  its  mon- 
strous neck.  But  the  eyes !  There  was  no  fat- 
like  substance  in  them.  They  were  wide  and 


36     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

round  and  glaring  with  a  thousand  years  of 
malignity  concentrated  in  a  moment.  Pale 
eyes  they  were.  If  you  dread  an  evil  dark  eye, 
dread  more  an  evil  pale  eye.  Suffering  unim- 
aginable and  hate  of  everything  above  it  were 
expressed  in  the  eyes  of  that  entity  from  the 
deep  of  things  which  from  the  lowest  astral 
plane  spat  and  drooled  its  venom  toward  the 
surface  of  the  planet.  Immense  it  was  in  size, 
toothless  and  shapeless  its  mouth.  What  the 
nourishment  might  be  which  had  kept  it  to- 
gether I  refrain  from  telling  you. 

Again  I  say,  do  not  dread  it.  It  cannot 
reach  toward  the  surface  of  the  earth  now.  Its 
existence  is  near  its  term.  But  the  germs  of 
astral  disease  which  were  spewed  from  its 
shapeless  mouth  have  been  multiplying  in  spite 
of  all  the  efforts  of  those  who  know  how  to 
cope  with  such  things. 

The  beings  of  the  air  are  not  filthy,  however 
evil  they  may  be,  and  few  of  them  are  really 
evil — few  in  proportion  to  those  who  are  amia- 
ble or  indifferent  to  man. 

The  more  revengeful  of  the  beings  of  fire 
may  yet  make  themselves  felt ;  for  sporadic  ef- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     37 

forts  will  still  be  made,  though  the  great  strug- 
gle is  won  in  the  invisible  regions. 

Stay  where  you  are  for  the  time.  A  danger 
still  threatens  Europe  beyond  the  danger  of 
armies.  Wait — and  pray.  For  prayer  is  an 
astral  force  and  its  effects,  being  in  the  higher 
astral,  are  far-reaching. 

Wait — and  pray. 

March  15. 


LETTER  VI 

THE  ARCHDUKE 

HAVE  you  ever  thought  of  the  posthu- 
mous feelings  of  him  whose  murder 
precipitated  this  war?  No,  you  have 
not;  but  I  have,  and  I  sought  for  him  and 
found  him. 

Others  were  seeking  him  too,  the  souls  of 
the  dead  and  the  astral  souls  of  those  who 
slept  on  earth. 

Truly  his  was  not  a  peaceful  passing,  either 
in  flesh  or  in  spirit. 

The  dread  of  assassination  which  had  long 
hung  over  him  like  a  dark  cloud  predisposed 
him  to  a  dark  and  stormy  period  after  death, 
even  if  he  had  not  been  shocked  out  by  the 
murderous  assault.  This  was  another  illustra- 
tion of  that  law  by  which  the  thing  we  fear 
attacks  us  sooner  or  later. 

At  first  he  passed  into  darkness  and  a  pe- 
riod of  somnolence,  like  a  vague  nightmare; 
then  as  he  gradually  awoke  to  a  more  vivid 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     39 

consciousness  he  awoke  with  pain  and  anxiety 
and  wailing  of  soul.  The  dreaded  thing  had 
come  at  last,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  outside 
his  body  and  searched  for  it. 

The  customary  funeral  was  even  more  dis- 
mal for  him  than  it  is  for  most  souls,  because 
the  slight  opening  of  vision  which  his  passing 
had  given  made  him  realize  that  far  more  than 
his  personal  death  was  bound  up  with  this 
change. 

He  was  not  attacked  by  the  evil  things  which 
had  brought  about  his  death.  What  more 
could  they  want  with  him?  He  had  served 
their  purposes. 

Had  there  been  anyone  else  round  whose 
murder  so  much  obscurity  and  so  complex  a 
series  of  misunderstandings  and  suspicions 
could  have  gathered,  probably  that  other  man 
would  have  suffered  in  his  stead.  But  whose 
murder  could  have  served  that  purpose  so  well 
as  this  man's?  Whose  relations  placed  him  in 
such  a  focus  of  rays?  His  relations  with  the 
German  Emperor,  the  relations  of  his  family 
with  those  for  whom  he  had  no  sympathy,  the 
relations  of  the  present  heir  with  Russia — all 
these  and  many  other  sources  of  error  and 


40     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

doubt  and  confusion  formed  an  ideal  centre  of 
tumult. 

And  the  soul  felt  this  tumult  in  addition  to 
his  anger  and  disappointment  at  being  driven 
from  the  world.  His  anxiety  for  his  children 
was  not  small,  for  they  stood  in  a  peculiar  posi- 
tion regarding  the  families  around  them. 

Imagine  the  thought  of  every  man,  woman 
and  child  capable  of  following  an  event  like 
that,  centred  on  one  soul,  in  anger,  love,  grief, 
curiosity,  doubt,  uncertainty — every  mind  in 
almost  every  country  of  the  world!  It  was 
enough  to  shatter  his  astral  body  altogether. 

Generally  when  a  ruler  dies  he  is  followed 
by  loving  thoughts,  or  thoughts  of  dislike,  but 
not  by  confusing  thoughts.  His  race  is  run. 
The  King  is  dead,  long  live  the  King! 

For  some  time  this  heir  to  a  great  throne  was 
even  driven  away  from  the  companion  whom 
he  loved.  He  had  nothing  to  lean  on.  He  was 
drawn  upon  and  victimized  by  thoughts, 
thoughts,  thoughts,  from  all  directions  and  in 
all  stages  of  intensity. 

Even  the  prayers  offered  for  the  repose  of 
his  soul  in  purgatory  had  not  the  effect  which 
such  prayers  of  love  generally  have.  They 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     41 

were  only  a  drop  in  the  river  of  thoughts  which 
rushed  in  his  direction.  Yes,  I  say  in  his  di- 
rection; for  he  remained  a  long  time  in  that 
storm-centre  of  thoughts. 

Even  the  band  of  helpers,  of  whom  I  told 
you  when  I  wrote  for  the  world  before,  were 
not  able  to  assist  him  very  much ;  for  they  too 
were  attacked  by  the  beings  of  evil  who  made 
war  in  the  astral  regions. 

As  a  rule  the  death  of  one  man  makes  little 
difference  to  the  world.  Those  who  love  him 
grieve,  and  those  who  dislike  him  or  who  profit 
by  his  death  are  glad.  This  man  went  out 
with  the  flaming  torch  of  war  in  his  vapory 
hand. 

After  a  time  he  sought  and  found  his  friend, 
the  ruler  of  Germany;  but  that  ruler  could  not 
see  him,  though  he  sensed  a  presence  in  the 
room.  He  was  half  afraid.  What  was  the 
presence?  he  wondered.  Was  it  his  own  gen- 
ius? Did  it  come  to  remind  him  that  the  hour 
of  his  "great  destiny"  was  at  hand?  The  hesi- 
tation of  his  weakness  was  rather  shameful  to 
see;  but  the  determination  of  his  strength,  of 
his  evil  self,  set  its  heel  upon  the  weakness  and 
the  preparations  for  war  went  on. 


42     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

The  soul  of  the  Archduke  was  too  confused 
to  play  a  part  in  those  counsels.  He  had  been 
a  strong  man,  and  will  be  strong  again;  but 
during  the  time  when  he  might  have  exercised 
an  invisible  influence,  he  exercised  none; 
he  strove  to  make  himself  visible,  and  in  one 
instance  at  least  succeeded. 

Yes,  I  spoke  with  him  and  advised  him ;  but 
I  had  other  things  to  do  just  then  and  left  him 
with  a  priest  of  his  own  church,  a  gentle  and 
strong  soul  who  stood  like  a  rock  in  the  tumult. 

I  only  mention  my  seeing  the  Archduke  be- 
cause of  one  who  will  some  day  read  these  lines. 
I  cannot  offer  much  comfort,  but  she  will  be 
glad  to  know  of  the  strong  and  quiet  priest, 
and  I  shall  have  kept  a  promise  which  I  made 
but  have  so  far  been  unable  to  keep  in  any  way 
save  this. 

March  17. 


LETTER   VII 


"THE  CHOSEN  PEOPLE" 


THE  nations  began  to  declare  war  on  one 
another.  I  stood  with  twenty  others 
for  hours  in  the  palace  at  Potsdam, 
trying  by  the  silent  pressure  of  will  to  reduce 
the  pressure  of  the  war-will  which  surged  in  the 
German  nation  towards  its  Emperor.  And 
they  say  that  Germany  did  not  want  war! 

"Der  Tag"  seemed  near,  and  war  seemed  to 
mean  triumph. 

It  is  a  commonplace  to  say  now  that  Ger- 
many believed  that  England  could  not  go  to 
war.  And  had  England  not  gone  to  war,  the 
issue  would  have  been  settled  before  the  date 
of  this  writing.  The  German  navy  would 
have  met  the  French  in  battle  and  would  have 
worsted  it. 

It  would  be  well  for  you  to  cease  shrinking 
when  I  say  what  does  not  please  you.  I  state 
what  I  know;  you  merely  write  down  what  I 
say. 


44     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

I  and  twenty  others  centred  the  force  of  our 
will  in  Potsdam  and  in  the  Wilhelmstrasse. 
Not  that  we  did  not  know  what  the  issue  would 
be.  We  knew.  This  war  was  written  in  the 
stars.  But  as  the  soldier  does  his  duty  though 
he  knows  that  he  will  lose  the  day,  so  we  stood 
our  ground  against  the  war  devils. 

The  greatest  of  the  Masters  did  not  stand 
there  with  us,  and  I  do  not  know  where  he  was. 
Probably  on  some  business  that  we  might  not 
have  understood.  Perhaps  holding  back  worse 
forces  from  the  outer  stars. 

No,  that  is  not  a  dream,  though  it  is  only  a 
supposition.  There  is  evil  as  well  as  good  in 
the  outer  stars. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  restraining  influence 
of  those  who  watched  up  here,  many  of  the 
foreigners  in  Germany  at  that  time  would  have 
been  torn  limb  from  limb. 

What  do  you  know  of  war-madness,  hate- 
madness?  Were  you  capable  of  feeling  it  in 
your  present  personality,  you  could  not  write 
for  me  now,  while  those  whom  you  love  and 
respect  are  nearly  all  on  one  side  of  a  war  not 
yet  finished.  You  may  grasp  hate  intellect- 
ually, you  may  dramatize  it;  but  you  do  not 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     45 

feel  it,  though  you  have  suffered  from  its  ef- 
fects. 

The  worst  in  the  German  heart  is  very  bad 
— though  I  tell  you  not  to  hate  them.  The 
worst  in  all  people  is  very  bad,  but  the  German 
is  the  greatest  bully  on  the  planet.  The  cruel 
Oriental  races  have  a  restraint  which  has 
grown  in  them  through  ages  of  culture;  the 
German  knows  only  the  restraint  of  the  Ger- 
man law,  he  respects  only  the  restraint  of  the 
German  law. 

He  has  no  sense  of  right  and  wrong  in  the 
abstract,  though  he  is  often  extremely  sensitive 
as  to  what  is  right  and  wrong  for  him  in  his 
relation  to  those  near  him,  his  kinsmen  and 
fellow-citizens.  But  those  outside  the  race- 
group  are  outside  his  code  of  honor,  however 
polished  he  may  be. 

I  am  speaking  now  of  the  race,  not  of  the 
few  who  have  by  long  residence  abroad  ab- 
sorbed somewhat  of  world-brotherhood  and  the 
more  delicate  sensibilities  of  international  re- 
lations. 

And  mark  this  also:  The  German  can  love 
as  thoroughly  as  he  can  hate;  but  he  can  love 
only  his  own,  something  which  is  an  extension 
of  himself,  a  secondary  ego,  the  me  in  another 


46     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

form.  A  German  may  love  a  foreign  wife,  if 
he  can  Germanize  her.  A  German  may  love 
a  foreign  friend,  if  that  friend  does  not  stand 
in  the  way  of  something  he  wants  for  himself. 

I  am  not  referring  to  those  sudden  outpour- 
ings of  emotion  to  which  those  emotional  peo- 
ple are  subject.  I  am  not  referring  to  their 
surface  kindliness,  which  is  the  overflow  of 
emotion. 

And  still  I  say,  love  these  unlovable  people, 
love  them  so  much  that  they  will  be  detached 
from  their  race-centre  and  will  flow  out  in 
melting  response  to  everything  that  is  not  Ger- 
man. The  world  can  never  really  soften  the 
German  shell  by  throwing  stones  against  it. 
When  they  break  down  in  this  war,  they  will  not 
be  any  more  essentially  lovable  because  they  are 
weaker.  Love  them  by  trying  to  understand 
them. 

It  will  take  decades  for  the  arrogant  and 
self-exalting  German  to  see  that  there  is  any- 
thing outside  that  may  be  superior  to  what  is 
inside  his  shell. 

i  He  respects  only  might.  He  must  be  con- 
quered by  might.  From  his  enforced  respect 
of  a  superior  might  he  may  be  led  gradually 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     47 

to  see  the  superior  right  of  that  gentleness 
which  does  not  use  its  might  to  coerce  him 
when  further  coercion  is  unnecessary. 

I  have  stood  in  German  households  since 
this  war  began,  I  have  entered  into  and  for 
the  time  being  have  become  German  men  and 
German  women,  and  I  understand  them  and 
love  them.  I  even  admire  them,  for  their  de- 
votion to  their  own  is  immense.  Once  let  that 
strength  go  out  in  real  brotherhood  to  all  man- 
kind, and  these  people  would  be  truly  great. 
Is  it  possible?  All  things  are  possible  to  the 
human  soul,  and  these  people  are  very  human. 

The  defect  is  in  their  vaunted  education. 
They  teach  themselves  that  they  are  the  chosen 
people.  When  they  learn  that  they  are  not 
the  chosen  people  in  war,  the  very  force  of  the 
shock  may  upset  the  pillar  of  egotism  that 
stands  upright  in  the  centre  of  the  German 
soul.  The  world  should  not  let  that  pillar  fall 
with  a  crash,  but  softly  ease  the  blow — not  too 
softly,  lest  mercy  be  mistaken  for  war-weari- 
ness. 

The  World-Mother  has  a  hard  and  erring 
child.  It  has  to  be  punished,  but  not  refused 
a  seat  at  the  family  table. 


48     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

I  have  said  these  things  to  you  because,  if 
you  do  not  shrink,  I  have  things  to  tell  you  in 
my  next  letter  which  will  need  fortitude  for 
you  to  receive,  fortitude  and  charity,  whose 
other  name  is  love. 

March  24* 


LETTER   VIII 

SPECTRES  OF  THE  CONGO 

I  HAVE  been  in  Poland  and  I  have  been 
in  Serbia;  but  now  I  want  to  write  of 
Belgium  and  of  karma,*  race  karma, 
karma  old  and  new. 

With  and  behind  the  invading  Germans, 
urging  them  on  to  murder,  pillage  and  destruc- 
tion, rape  and  burning,  were  not  only  the  dev- 
ils from  the  outer  vast,  whose  time  for  activity 
had  come;  but  with  and  behind  the  German 
army  was  a  horde  of  undeveloped  and  earth- 
bound  spirits  who  had  suffered  in  the  Congo. 
Karma,  always  karma! 

The  world  knows  something  of  what  has 
been  done  in  Belgium,  something  of  what  Ger- 
mans have  done  there. 

I  have  seen  men,  women,  and  little  children 
murdered  in  cold  blood.  I  have  witnessed  the 
soul  of  a  murdered  man  tearing  at  a  soldier 
who  was  violating  the  murdered  man's  wife.  I 

*The  law  of  ethical  causation. 


50     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

have  seen  the  soul  of  a  mother  wringing  her 
hands  as  she  would  have  wrung  them  on  earth 
when  her  little  daughter  was  being  maltreated 
by  brutes  who  were  blind  with  madness.  An 
old  man  out  here  followed  a  soldier  for  days 
until  he  saw  revenge  accomplished  by  means,  of 
a  Belgian  bayonet;  then  as  the  German  soul 
came  out  he  grappled  with  it  again,  and  the 
two  were  torn  by  each  other,  the  soldier  not 
knowing  he  had  left  the  body  and  feeling  that 
he  was  at  grips  with  an  enemy  still  on  earth. 

There  was  much  of  what  is  called  Voodoo  in 
the  Congo.  Its  practitioners  do  not  go  to 
sleep  for  a  long  time.  They  go  on  and  on  in 
the  invisible  world,  making  their  evil  prepara- 
tions and  weaving  their  spells.  They  gatker 
round  spilled  blood,  they  absorb  vitality  from 
it,  and  that  vitality  they  use  to  bring  evil  and 
death  upon  anything  toward  which  they  direct 
their  will. 

Did  you  fancy  that  will  was  weakened  when 
man  lays  aside  the  brain?  It  is  weakened  in 
the  sense  that  there  is  less  freedom  of  choice; 
but  there  is  tremendous  will  in  following  a 
choice  already  set  up  when  the  physical  base 
of  the  brain  was  attached  to  the  will. 


WAE  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     51 

But  now  all  the  evil  karma  of  Belgium  is 
lived  out,  and  she  stands  like  a  new  soul  in  the 
face  of  time. 

Another  race  has  taken  up  the  load  that  she 
laid  down.  Will  that  too  be  expended  soon, 
or  late?  Germany  has  woven  round  herself 
a  shirt  of  evil  causes  that  will  cling  to  her  and 
chafe  her  flesh  for  generations.  "It  must  needs 
be  that  offences  come ;  but  woe  to  that  man  by 
whom  the  offence  cometh." 

The  karma  of  nations  is  known  to  the  Mas- 
ters and  Adepts. 

The  karma  of  England!  Have  you  ever 
thought  about  the  karma  of  England?  Grant- 
ing that  she  has  done  much  wrong,  as  all  old 
nations  have,  yet  she  has  allowed  herself  to  be 
used  by  the  world-will.  She,  more  than  all  the 
other  old  races,  has  been  an  instrument  in  the 
unifying  of  the  races.  Did  you  fancy  that  the 
British  Empire  was  a  fortuitous  concourse  of 
atoms?  Did  you  think  the  British  Empire 
merely  happened? 

And  now  the  British  Empire  may  be  used 
further.  She  may  be  used  in  Belgium.  And  I 
do  not  mean  the  mere  presence  of  her  army 
in  Belgium. 


52     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

It  is  said  that  the  Masters,  the  world's  teach- 
ers, hold  back  the  awful  karma  of  the  world. 
I  am  trying  to  do  a  little  toward  holding  back 
the  awful  karma  of  Germany. 

She  has  disgraced  the  human  race  in  Bel- 
gium. Everything  that  has  been  believed 
about  German  outrages  in  Belgium  is  true  ex- 
cept one  thing.  So  far  as  I  know,  and  I 
have  enquired  of  those  who  know  more  than  I, 
German  soldiers  have  not  cut  off  the  hands  of 
living  Belgian  children.  But  they  have  mur- 
dered women,  and  outraged  women,  and 
mocked  and  insulted  pregnant  women,  and 
maltreated  the  new-made  mothers  of  babes  that 
they  have  murdered.  They  have  burned  men 
alive,  and  they  have  buried  men  still  alive. 

I  say  that  Germans  have  done  these  things. 
Should  I  say  that  the  forces  of  evil,  the  beings 
of  evil,  the  superhuman  and  the  once-human 
forces  of  evil,  have  done  these  things,  using  as 
their  instruments  the  forms  of  German  sol- 
diers from  which  they  had  thrust  for  the  mo- 
ment the  moral  soul? 

Take  it  whichever  way  you  please,  for  both 
ways  are  true.  The  men  who  ravaged  and 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     53 

destroyed  Belgium  were  not  all  obsessed,  save 
that  evil  may  be  always  an  obsession. 

Help  to  hold  back  the  awful  karma  that  Ger- 
many has  made  in  Belgium. 

"Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  and  hate  thine  enemy. 
But  I  say  unto  you,  love  your  enemies,  bless 
them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate 
you,  and  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use 
you,  and  persecute  you;  that  ye  may  be  the 
children  of  your  Father  who  is  in  heaven." 

March  27. 


LETTER   IX 

UNSEEN  GUAKDIANS 

IN"  the  devastated  region  of  Belgium — and 
most  of  Belgium  is  devastated — there 
stands  a  little  house  unharmed  and  tran- 
quil as  before  the  war.  Round  about  it  are 
ruined  walls,  standing  black  with  smoke  or 
grey  with  the  powder  of  shell-fire. 

Two  women  live  there,  middle-aged  women. 
They  did  not  flee  their  home  when  the  war-tide 
rushed  over  them.  They  were  frightened — 
yes,  but  they  did  not  flee.  They  saw  neigh- 
boring houses  in  flames,  they  heard  the  deto- 
nation of  shells  bursting;  but  they  remained 
between  their  four  thin  walls,  and  waited  and 
prayed.  Four  gods  they  prayed  to,  God  the 
Father  and  God  the  Son,  and  two  others — 
their  father  and  mother,  who  had  passed  on 
some  years  before  into  the  other  world,  their 
Belgian  father  and  their  German  mother! 

So  great  was  their  faith  that  they  believed 
they  would  be  unharmed,  and  they  were  not 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     55 

harmed.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  that  little 
house  stands  there  secure  in  the  midst  of  deso- 
lation. 

Love  is  a  protective  force.  The  father  and 
mother  of  those  two  middle-aged  women  had 
loved  each  other  tenderly.  Race  was  no  bar- 
rier to  their  love.  The  German  woman  and 
the  Belgian  man  had  taught  their  children  that 
Germany  was  their  mother  and  Belgium  was 
their  father. 

Their  bones  lie  together  in  the  village 
churchyard,  and  their  souls  kept  watch  when 
the  armies  passed  over.  They  guarded  the 
children  they  loved. 

Does  this  seem  an  impossible  story?  I  know 
it  to  be  a  fact.  I  have  spoken  with  that  father 
and  mother,  and  I  shall  speak  with  them  again. 
Their  faith  is  rare,  and  their  love  is  rare,  and 
their  reward  has  been  rare. 

It  is  easier  to  guard  a  little  house  than  to 
move  a  mountain,  and  it  has  been  said  that 
faith  like  a  grain  of  mustard-seed  could  move 
a  mountain. 

Those  two  souls  had  not  yet  passed  away 
from  the  neighborhood  of  the  earth;  they 
waited  for  their  children.  When  the  war-tide 


56     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

rolled  over,  they  stood  guard  at  the  doorstone 
of  their  home.  The  spirits  of  the  peaceful  dead 
do  not  like  the  sound  of  shells,  but  those  two 
did  not  fly  away.  Had  they  been  frightened 
from  their  vigil,  the  little  house  might  now  be 
like  its  neighbors. 

Am  I  over-credulous?  Do  you  remember 
my  telling  you  one  day  years  ago  that  you  were 
not  credulous  enough?  I  see  that  you  re- 
member. These  two — the  Belgian  father  and 
the  German  mother — were  also  credulous,  as 
the  world  uses  the  word,  and  their  children 
were  credulous,  too.  Had  the  nations  been 
equally  credulous  of  the  power  of  love,  there 
would  have  been  no  war ;  for  there  would  have 
been  no  armies  to  make  war. 

I  am  not  preaching  against  armies.  I  am 
only  preaching  love  and  faith.  When  love  and 
faith  grow  greater,  armies  will  grow  smaller, 
and  war  will  be  at  an  end. 

I  asked  the  Belgian  father  how  he  felt  about 
the  war,  and  he  looked  toward  his  German 
wife ;  I  asked  the  German  mother  how  she  felt 
about  the  war,  and  she  looked  toward  her  Bel- 
gian husband.  Neither  would  speak  for  fear 
of  wounding  the  other. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     57 

How  should  I  feel  now  if  my  nation  were  at 
war,  you  wonder?  But  since  the  eyes  of  my 
memory  opened  and  I  saw  my  past  lives,  I 
realize  that  I  have  had  so  many  nations,  have 
fought  in  so  many  armies,  have  lain  in  the  lap 
of  so  many  mothers  of  mine  in  so  many  lands, 
that  my  spirit  is  uprooted. 

I  have  joined  the  great  White  Brotherhood, 
to  which  all  men  are  brothers  and  all  women 
sisters.  It  would  be  difficult  for  you  to  see  with 
my  eyes.  I  watch  and  wait,  like  the  parents 
of  the  two  old  maids  in  Belgium,  and  so  far 
the  house  of  my  faith  stands  untouched  by  the 
fires  of  war. 

In  the  great  White  Brotherhood  there  are 
members  from  many  races,  there  are  members 
from  the  races  now  at  war.  Do  you  fancy  that 
they  looked  askance  at  one  another  when  the 
world  went  mad?  They  did  not  look  askance 
at  one  another.  Each  stood  guard  where  he 
could  do  the  most  good.  Each  sought  to  soften 
the  blow  for  the  brethren  of  his  brother,  each 
sought  to  soften  the  hearts  of  his  own  blood- 
brethren.  But  as  this  war  was  written  in  the 
stars,  the  Teachers  of  the  world  could  not  pre- 
vent it  when  the  hour  struck. 


58     WAB  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Do  you  know  what  it  means  to  be  a  member 
of  the  great  White  Brotherhood?  It  means  to 
work  for  the  welfare  of  the  human  race,  for  the 
good  of  the  planet  as  a  whole. 

And  there  is  another  thing  I  want  to  tell  you. 
You  have  heard  of  a  Black  Brotherhood.  It  is 
a  misnomer.  Brotherhood  is  never  black. 
There  is  no  Black  Brotherhood.  There  are 
many  Black  Masters,  for  Mastership,  like  a 
garment,  may  be  either  white  or  black.  In  this 
war  the  black  forces  who  have  inspired  hatred 
in  men  have  worked  for  one  end,  and  that  very 
fact  will  weaken  their  power  to  do  evil  for  a 
long  time,  when  the  results  of  their  present 
labors  are  over. 

Do  you  get  my  meaning?  A  combination 
of  evil  forces,  in  the  very  act  of  combining, 
weakens  the  individual  power  of  its  members; 
for  evil  is  strongest  when  individual. 

Two  who  are  full  of  love  may  work  together 
with  the  power  of  four;  but  two  who  work  to- 
gether for  evil  have  only  the  power  of — shall 
I  say  one  and  a  half?  And  one  and  a  half 
against  four!  If  you  love  power,  use  power 
for  good  and  increase  it. 


WAR  LETTEKS  FEOM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     59 

It  is  because  of  the  multitude  of  elementary 
evil  forces,  all  hurling  their  malice  at  the  world, 
not  because  of  their  combination,  that  this  mad- 
ness was  made  possible. 

Hate  is  a  disintegrating  force.  Those  who 
hate  after  this  war  will  disintegrate  themselves. 
Those  who  love  after  this  war  will  grow  strong. 
France  especially  will  grow  strong,  because 
there  is  more  love  than  hate  in  France.  France 
loves  so  much  that  even  her  enemies  do  not  hate 
her.  It  is  not  merely  because  she  is  not  so 
brutally  strong  as  her  great  enemy. 

Love  your  enemies.  That  is  the  surest  way 
to  overcome  them. 

March  29. 


LETTER   X 

ONE  DAY  AS  A  THOUSAND  YEARS 

AS  I  am  writing  about  war,  I  wish  to  talk 
to  those  who  have  lost  their  loved  ones 
in  this  war. 

You  who  grieve  for  the  untimely  dead,  have 
you  not  read  that  one  day  shall  be  as  a  thous- 
and years  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day? 

We  must  start  on  the  basis  of  re-birth,  whose 
other  name  is  rhythm,  and  whose  course  is  im- 
mortality. Immortality  presupposes  no  begin- 
ning and  looks  forward  to  no  end.  The  spirit 
always  was  and  always  will  be.  In  the  life  of 
the  spirit  one  day  is  as  a  thousand  years  and 
a  thousand  years  are  as  one  day. 

Birth  is  the  morning  of  a  new  day,  and  death 
is  the  evening  of  that  day,  and  the  period  be- 
tween lives  is  the  period  of  sleeping  and  dream- 
ing. Or  you  may  turn  it  the  other  way  and 
say  that  life  is  a  dream  and  death  the  awaken- 
ing to  reality.  But  the  rhythm  is  sure. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     61 

Falling  asleep  is  a  passing  through  the  as- 
tral world,  much  as  the  soul  passes  through  it 
after  death.  You  who  write  for  me,  and  a  few 
others,  pass  through  it  in  full  consciousness. 
Some  day  all  men  will  pass  through  it  con- 
sciously and  will  bring  back  the  memory. 

You  who  grieve  for  the  dead,  remember  that 
a  lifetime  is  but  a  day  to  the  immortal  spirit. 
Often  have  you  parted  from  a  loved  one  for  a 
day  and  felt  no  grief  thereat.  The  loved  one 
left  home  to  perform  a  duty  and  you  felt  sure 
that  the  next  day  you  would  see  him  again. 
Can  you  not  feel  that  in  the  next  day  of  the 
soul,  the  next  lifetime  (it  is  all  the  same  in 
eternity) ,  you  will  greet  your  loved  one  again? 

Friends  do  not  meet  in  every  life  unless  they 
are  very  intimate.  As  you  do  not  see  one 
friend  or  another  oftener  than  once  a  week,  so 
in  the  greater  days  of  the  soul  you  may  not 
meet  all  your  friends  every  day.  You  part 
from  one  on  Monday  with  a  definite  engage- 
ment to  meet  on  Friday.  Four  days,  four  life- 
times, it  is  all  the  same  in  eternity. 

But  from  some  you  only  part  for  a  few 
hours,  from  noon  to  sunset,  and  meet  again  in 
the  evening  in  the  intimacy  of  home.  Those 


62     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

who  have  left  you  now  at  the  midday  of  life 
will  perhaps  come  home  to  you  at  the  sunset; 
which  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  they 
may  meet  you  at  the  end  of  this  day  of  the 
soul,  the  end  of  this  life,  and  be  with  you  in  the 
twilight  period  of  the  astral  life  and  in  the 
sweet  dream  of  heaven  beyond.  Do  not  grieve. 
Love  waits  for  its  own. 

Some  friends  you  may  meet  again  two,  four 
or  seven  lifetimes  away;  but  those  who  are 
really  your  intimates,  your  lovers,  your  own, 
you  will  meet  again  at  the  sunset,  or  at  the  lat- 
est to-morrow — the  next  day  of  the  soul  on 
earth. 

How  will  you  prepare  for  the  meeting? 
Will  you  not  work  cheerfully  all  day,  knowing 
that  at  dusk  Love  will  come  back  to  you?  As 
sunset  approaches,  will  you  not  robe  yourself 
in  the  white  garment  of  faith,  the  evening  gar- 
ment, and  watch  for  Love  at  the  window? 
Love  will  come.  Can  you  not  in  anticipation 
hear  his  footstep  on  the  gravel?  Can  you  not 
hear  the  click  of  the  lifted  latch?  Will  you 
not  go  forward  with  a  smile  to  greet  Love? 
Surely,  one  day  shall  be  as  a  thousand  years 
and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     63 

I  took  counsel  with  the  soul  of  an  English 
officer  who  died  in  leading  a  charge.  His  death 
was  quick  and  painless.  A  shot  through  the 
heart  and  he  found  himself — after  a  period  of 
unconsciousness — still,  as  he  supposed,  leading 
a  charge. 

But  there  was  no  enemy  before  him,  nothing 
but  the  tranquil  fields  above  the  tumult;  for  so 
great  was  his  exaltation  of  spirit — he  had  died 
with  the  thought  of  his  Love  in  his  heart — that 
he  had  gone  up  and  up  to  the  region  where 
Love  may  have  room. 

Seeing  nothing  before  him  he  paused,  looked 
round  and  saw  me. 

"Brother,"  I  said,  "y°u  have  left  the  war 
behind  you." 

He  understood.  Those  who  have  lived  for 
weeks  in  the  tents  of  Death  are  not  slow  in 
recognizing  Death  when  he  lifts  the  curtain. 

"And  what  of  the  charge?"  he  asked  eagerly. 
"Was  the  charge  won?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "the  force  of  your  spirit 
won  it." 

"Then  all  is  well,"  was  his  answer. 

"Rest  a  little,"  I  said.  "Rest  and  talk  with 
me." 


64     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Have  we  met  before?"  he  asked.  "For 
your  face  is  familiar  to  me." 

"My  face  is  familiar  to  many  on  the  battle- 
fields," I  said. 

"When  did  you  come out  here?" 

"Three  years  ago." 

"Then  you  can  teach  me  much." 

"Perhaps  I  can  teach  you  something.  What 
do  you  want  to  know?" 

"I  would  know  how  to  comfort  one  to  whom 
my  death  will  bring  great  grief." 

"Where  is  she?"  I  asked. 

He  named  the  place. 

"Then  come/'  I  said,  "I  will  go  with  you." 

We  found  a  beautiful  woman  in  a  little  room 
in  England,  a  little  room  which  contained  a 
little  bed.  And  in  the  bed  was  a  boy  four  or 
five  years  old.  We  could  hear  the  voices  of 
the  mother  and  child  as  they  talked  together. 

"And  when  will  father  come  home?"  the 
little  one  asked. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  the  mother. 

"Father  will  come  home,  won't  he?  Are  you 
sure  that  he  will  come  home?" 

"I  pray  that  he  comes  home  soon,"  was  all 
the  mother  said. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     65 

The  eyes  of  children,  as  they  pass  into  the 
twilight  world,  the  world  between  waking  and 
sleeping,  are  sometimes  very  clear. 

"Why,  father  has  come  home!"  the  child 
cried,  and  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the 
father  with  a  glad  cry. 

And  the  mother  knew  and  was  very  still. 

But  her  grief  was  softened  by  knowing  that 
he  whom  she  loved  had  come  home  and  that  her 
child  had  seen  him.  I  think  he  will  remain 
with  her  until  she  can  join  him  here.  The  de- 
lay will  not  retard  the  progress  of  his  soul. 
Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law.  There  is  time 
in  eternity  for  love  and  the  delays  of  love.  In 
love  a  thousand  years  are  as  one  day. 

March  29. 


LETTER   XI 

MANY  TONGUES 

LEARN  languages.  My  work  in  this  war 
has  been  hampered  by  my  knowing  so 
little  of  German. 

With  the  souls  of  those  long  here  I  can  hold 
converse  by  pure  thought;  but  the  souls  of  the 
newly-come  speak  the  language  they  spoke  on 
earth  and  often  that  language  is  but  a  patois. 
That  is  one  reason  why  I  have  had  best  success 
among  the  English  armies. 

I  can  read  the  thoughts  of  the  Germans  and 
the  French,  but  they  cannot  always  under- 
stand me.  The  father  and  mother  of  the  two 
women  in  Belgium  had  been  so  long  out  here 
that  we  could  understand  each  other's  thoughts. 

Learn  languages.  When  you  come  to  work 
in  this  world  you  may  want  them  even  more 
than  on  earth,  for  distances  here  are  short  as 
thought,  and  one  goes  from  place  to  place  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

March  30. 


LETTER   XII 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  BEING 

fTPJHE  angel  we  call  the  Beautiful  Being, 
who  guided  me  on  my  journey  among 
the  planets,  would  like  to  insert  here  a 
few  words  on  Love  and  Hate.     They  seem  to 
be  an  expression  of  the  mortal  and  the  Immor- 
tal Self,  in  the  early  days  of  the  war. 

LOVE  AND  HATE 

One  whom  I  loved  made  war  on  me,  and  the 
nations  of  the  earth  made  war  on  one  another. 
The  green  fields  were  stained  with  blood  and 
the  hum  of  the  harvest  crickets  was  drowned 
in  cries  of  pain  and  rage,  as  men  rushed  on  to 
wreak  their  hate  upon  their  human  kindred. 
My  heart  was  sadder  than  the  skies  of  the  Lon- 
don winter.  No  joy  there  seemed  in  all  the 
earth;  for  love  was  dying  and  peace  was  dead, 
and  men  were  going  everywhere  to  death. 
MENE,  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHARSIN  was  written  on 
the  walls  of  the  human  temple. 


68     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

And  I  said  to  my  heart: 

"Where  have  we  drifted  in  the  midday  of  our 
life?  And  why  do  we  wait  for  the  sunset?  For 
love  has  failed,  and  the  world  has  failed,  and 
have  we  not  failed,  too?" 

Then  as  I  sat  gazing  into  the  nothingness  of 
my  own  faith,  I  heard  a  voice  that  seemed  to 
come  from  the  centre  of  all  things  and  the  voice 
said: 

"Take  your  pen  and  write,  for  to  him  who 
has  lost  everything  the  treasures  of  the  Self  are 
opened. 

"I  am  that  Self  that  you  had  forgotten  when 
you  looked  outside  for  love.  I  am  the  Self  that 
the  nations  had  forgotten  when  they  went  out 
to  destroy  one  another.  I  am  the  One  Self, 
and  my  house  is  in  all  these  hearts  that  throb 
with  hate  and  love.  When  they  wound  each 
other  they  wound  me;  when  they  doubt  each 
other  they  doubt  me;  when  they  love  each  other 
they  love  me.  There  is  no  other  way  of  realiz- 
ing me  save  by  love  and  hate  and  faith  and 
doubt.  For  love  and  hate  are  two  poles  of  the 
one  magnet,  and  doubt  and  faith  are  my  twin- 
born  children. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     69 

"He  who  has  never  doubted  all,,  knows  not 
the  meaning  of  faith;  and  he  who  has  never 
been  hated,  knows  not  the  meaning  of  love. 

"When  the  heart  is  empty  of  joy  I  fill  it  with 
myself.  When  my  own  destroy  each  other  on 
earth  they  rush  together  in  heaven.  Freed 
from  the  blindness  of  the  body  they  see  each 
other  true. 

"Two  soldiers  went  forth  to  war,  and  the  bul- 
let of  each  pierced  the  heart  of  the  other.  Their 
hate  was  hot  as  love.  Then  in  the  sudden  dark- 
ness of  death  they  reached  for  each  other's 
hand;  their  hate  had  found  its  other  pole  and 
they  melted  together  in  love. 

"Two  friends  went  forth  to  war  against  each 
other,  and  with  every  wound  they  drew  nearer 
together — the  soul  of  each  grieved  for  the  oth- 
er's pain,  and  neither  in  death  nor  life  can  one 
escape  the  other. 

"Would  you  avoid  a  loved  one,  then  never 
dare  to  hate  him.  The  soul  has  pity  when  the 
brain  is  pitiless;  the  faith  of  the  soul  may  be 
strongest  when  the  mind  is  weak  with  doubt. 

"The  soul  of  the  brain  that  hates  you  keeps 
watch  when  the  brain  is  still,  it  wipes  with  its 
vapory  hand  the  tear-drops  from  your  eyes. 


70     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"When  you  weep  in  dreams,  know  that  your 
soul  is  weeping  for  the  tears  you  have  caused 
your  enemy.  When  you  wake  with  wet  eyes, 
you  are  paying  the  debt  of  love. 

"Be  kind  to  him  who  loves  you,  for  love  is  a 
helpless  waif;  if  you  drive  it  from  the  heart  it 
can  only  wander  alone. 

"Be  kind  to  him  who  hates  you,  for  his  waif 
is  wandering  alone. 

"When  you  go  to  sleep,  send  love  to  the  one 
who  wounds  you  by  day.  If  you  go  to  sleep  in 
hate  you  will  wake  with  wet  eyes. 

"I  am  the  go-between.  I  am  the  Self  whose 
house  is  in  every  heart.  I  take  messages  in  the 
darkness.  I  am  too  great  to  be  proud.  I  run 
errands  for  my  own. 

"How  well  you  have  tried  to  hate  I  know  by 
your  heart's  sadness.  That  you  have  failed  to 
hate  is  because  your  soul  is  sleepless. 

"I  am  the  go-between  and  I  keep  my  lantern 
lit." 

April  1. 


LETTER  XIII 

THE  BODY  OF  HUMANITY 

I    HAVE  said  that  as  twenty  of  us  stood  in 
the  palace  at  Potsdam  and  in  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse,  the  greatest  of  the  Teachers  was 
not  with  us. 

You  do  not  know  the  name  by  which  we 
know  him,  nor  do  you  need  to  know.  He  is 
one  who  has  left  so  far  behind  him  the  personal 
limitations  of  life  as  you  know  it  that  he  can 
look  upon  that  life  somewhat  as  the  Planetary 
Logos  may  look  upon  it.  He  can  look  at  the 
restless  and  warring  beings  on  earth  as  you 
would  look  at  micro-organisms  through  a  lens. 
Amoeba,  fat-cell,  pus-cell,  he  sees  them  all  as 
parts  of  the  great  Whole,  and  their  wars  do 
not  make  him  partisan. 

The  assertions,  the  reiterations,  the  bombas- 
tic prayers  of  the  German  Emperor,  who  goes 
on  the  assumption  that  God  must  be  on  his 
side  because  it  is  his  side,  do  not  move  this  Mas- 
ter even  to  smiles.  Absurdity  and  tragedy  are 


72     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

one  to  him,  except  as  they  further  or  retard 
the  growth  of  the  organism  of  Humanity. 

If  you  get  into  your  consciousness  a  realiza- 
tion, not  a  mere  philosophic  theory,  of  the  One 
and  the  many,  you  will  understand  that  the 
One  is  in  all  i;he  many,  whether  some  of  them 
be  your  friends  or  your  enemies. 

Another  thing  remember:  To  posit  is  to 
create.  Posit  and  thus  create  brotherhood. 
But  do  not  posit  it  too  violently,  lest  you  cli- 
max your  rhythm  too  soon  and  produce  by  re- 
action the  opposite  of  brotherhood.* 

The  greatest  of  the  Masters  seemed  to  us  to 
posit  no  new  thing  when  the  war-cloud  gath- 
ered. 

We  whose  knowledge  is  not  infinite  tried  to 
serve  as  physicians,  tried  to  cool  the  fever  that 
was  burning  the  cells  of  the  Great  Man,  Hu- 
manity. We  may  be  said  to  have  given  him 
mental  treatment,  to  have  urged  on  the  cura- 
tive process. 

*I  have  been  somewhat  troubled  by  the  unusual  expres- 
sion, "climax  a  rhythm."  But  as  there  are  many  rhyth- 
mic ripples  in  every  great  wave,  and  as  the  highest  reach 
of  a  wave  may  be  said  to  be  its  climax,  I  assume  that 
"X"  is  using  words  with  the  same  judicial  precision 
which  he  used  on  earth,  and  that  the  climax  of  a 
rhythmic  wave  may  be  called  the  climax  of  a  rhythm. — 
Editor. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     73 

The  astral  forces  with  which  we  struggled 
were  like  germs  of  disease  in  the  air.  From  the 
view-point  of  the  great  Master  they  were  no 
more  than  infusoria  which  you  could  see 
through  a  lens. 

Adjust  your  view  to  eternity  as  well  as  to 
time,  if  you  would  understand  him  and  help 
him  in  his  work.  But  do  not  regard  your  own 
work  as  unimportant  because  it  is  in  time,  be- 
cause from  the  greater  point  of  view  you  fancy 
that  it  may  appear  small. 

How  does  a  man  become  a  Master  save  by 
doing  his  work  as  if  the  health  of  the  whole 
planetary  organism  depended  on  it?  The  per- 
fect health  of  the  organism  does  depend  on  the 
work  of  every  cell. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  why  this  war  had  to  be. 
The  time  had  come  when  humanity  must  real- 
ize brotherhood  in  preparation  for  the  new  race 
that  had  to  be  born.  Instead  of  that,  there 
was  greater  and  greater  separation  in  feeling, 
though  the  material  discoveries  and  organiza- 
tions of  the  last  hundred  years  were  making 
brotherhood  possible  in  the  material  world. 

The  rhythm  of  separateness  was  climaxed 
by  this  war  of  separation.  Without  it  the 


74     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

brotherhood  of  man  would  have  been  retarded 
by  man's  refusal  to  work  emotionally  with  the 
law  that  had  already  been  demonstrated  to  him 
in  the  physical  world. 

In  other  words,  the  body  had  grown  faster 
than  the  soul  and  the  soul  had  to  suffer  with  the 
body;  the  soul  had  to  be  torn  in  order  that  it 
might  heal  itself  by  its  own  power,  the  power 
of  love. 

I  spoke  of  not  climaxing  too  violently  the 
rhythm  of  brotherhood.  That  applies  to  all 
rhythmic  waves.  The  Germans  desired  to  be 
the  ruling  race  of  the  world.  They  posited 
their  own  superiority  so  violently  that  they  are 
producing  the  opposite  of  superiority.  Posit 
with  calmness. 

They  might  have  been  the  leaders  in  the  new 
spirit  of  unity.  They  have  failed  and  have  lost 
their  opportunity.  The  mass  of  Germans  in 
the  United  States  might  have  been  a  unifying 
force  between  the  United  States  and  Germany. 
See  what  they  are  now! 

The  reason  why  Germany  was  not  permitted 
by  the  Masters  to  have  large  colonies  of  her 
own  was  so  that  her  surplus  population  might 
scatter  over  the  earth  and  mix  with  other  races. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     75 

• 

The  German  blood  needed  mixing.  Her  effi- 
ciency in  material  ways  might  thus  have  leav- 
ened the  world. 

—• ~ 

Instead,  she  became  drunk  with  her  own 
greatness.  She  climaxed  the  rhythm  that 
might  have  carried  her  steadily  forward.  It  is 
a  karmic  failure  she  has  made. 

The  races  are  like  organs  in  the  body  of  Hu- 
manity. If  one  race  refuses  to  work  with  and 
for  the  body  of  Humanity  as  well  as  for  it- 
self, it  becomes  diseased. 

If  Germany  would  even  now  turn  to  the  Su- 
preme Unity  and  worship  the  One  of  the  Sys- 
tem instead  of  her  little  racial  god,  she  could 
recover  the  ground  she  has  lost,  after  a  time  of 
suffering  and  initiation.  Will  she  do  it?  That 
remains  to  be  seen.  Help  with  the  Masters  to 
hold  back  the  bad  karma  of  that  race. 


LETTER   XIV 

THE  FOEMAN  WITHIN 

YOU  have  something  more  to  do  than  sim- 
ply to  write  down  what  I  say  about 
brotherhood.  With  selfless  devotion 
you  must  help  the  world  to  realize  it,  pointing 
out  the  way  to  individuals  and  aggregates  of 
individuals. 

Universal  Brotherhood!  It  has  a  pretty 
sound,  and  mouths  have  repeated  it  for  the  sake 
of  its  music,  when  the  meaning  of  it  was  neither 
in  the  heart  nor  in  the  brain. 

Universal  Brotherhood  is  not  only  the  broth- 
erly relation  between  the  units  of  the  Many, 
but  Universal  Brotherhood  is  also  their  unity, 
conscious  and  real,  in  the  One  Self.  Universal 
Brotherhood  is  the  return  of  the  Many  to  the 
One,  as  well  as  their  enjoyment  of  the  journey 
itself. 

You  have  repeated  the  old  Hindoo  word,  for- 
mula, mantra,  AUM,  repeated  it  like  a  parrot; 
but  if  you  had  realized  AUM  I  should  not 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     77 

have  to  preach  brotherhood  to  you,  and  by 
"you"  I  mean  all  men  and  women  who  have 
prattled  of  Universal  Brotherhood. 

A-U-M — the  One,  the  Many,  and  the  Union 
between  them:  the  Self,  the  Not-Self,  and 
the  Negation  of  separateness.  AUM,  the  seed, 
the  plant  and  the  perfume. 

What  do  you  fancy  that  you  are  in  the  world 
for? 

You  have  heard  of  Mulaprakriti,  you  The- 
osophists :  Mulaprakriti,  root-nature.  You 
have  heard  of  the  three  gunas,  or  qualities  of 
Mulaprakriti,  satwa,  rajas,  tamas:  satwa,  light, 
being,  peace;  rajas,  action,  passion,  assertion; 
tamas,  darkness,  inertia,  denial. 

Some  of  you  have  also  heard  of  Christ,  Lu- 
cifer, Ahriman. — Satwa,  rajas  and  tamas, 
again,  under  other  names. 

You  Kabalists  have  heard  of  Neshamah, 
Ruach,  Nephesh :  aspiration,  individual  intelli- 
gence, materiality. 

You  have  all  heard  of  Vishnu,  Brahma,  Shi- 
va: the  Preserver,  the  Creator,  the  Destroyer. 
— Yes,  that  is  the  proper  order,  for  Vishnu  pre- 
serves from  kalpa  to  kalpa,  and  Brahma  re- 
creates. 


78     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Krishna  (Vishnu)  says  in  the  Bhagavat- 
Gita,  "I  am  the  Self  that  is  seated  in  the  hearts 
of  all  beings." 

He  is  the  One  and  the  Many,  for  He  is  in 
the  many  and  the  many  are  in  Him.  You  can- 
not realize  Krishna  save  as  you  realize  Him  as 
the  Self  that  is  seated  in  the  hearts  of  all  be- 
ings. You  cannot  realize  the  Christ  until  you 
can  see  Him  in  the  hearts  of  all  beings. 

Yes,  you  may  struggle  with  one  another  and 
call  it  hate,  or  war ;  that  is  separateness. 

Separateness  is  necessary  as  a  stage  of  evo- 
lution, that  the  ego  may  realize  itself  as  dis- 
tinct; but  the  time  has  come  when  the  race 
should  turn  back  toward  its  Source,  to  Unity, 
to  the  Atma  that  is  the  same  in  everyone. 

I  have  learned  much  since  I  last  left  you  two 
years  ago.  On  earth  I  did  not  talk  incessantly 
of  Universal  Brotherhood.  I  wanted  to  achieve 
a  "peerless  individuality."  Well,  I  have 
achieved  it.  On  my  two  years'  journey  among 
the  planets  and  elsewhere,  I  found  the  power  I 
sought;  but  I  found  something  else — love,  the 
greatest  power  of  all. 

Brotherhood  is  love  and  that  is  why  I  preach 
brotherhood.  You  may  acquire  individuality 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     79 

by  hating,  but  not  a  "peerless  individuality." 

Do  not  be  afraid  of  losing  your  identity. 
So  long  as  you  can  love  something  other  than 
yourself  you  will  not  lose  your  individuality. 
For  to  love  something  other  is  to  posit  your 
individuality. 

To  love  only  your  separate  self  is  to  lose 
your  hold  on  individuality,  for  you  are  only 
an  individual  in  relation  to  other  selves.  Alone 
in  the  universe,  you  would  have  to  be  nothing 
or  everything,  and  you  cannot  be  everything— 
not  just  yet,  save  as  you  are  everything 
through  unity  with  everything,  and  that  is 
love. 

Rebel  as  you  will,  by  that  very  rebellion 
against  others  you  assert  their  equality  with 
you,  you  assert  their  co-existence,  and  behind 
co-existence  is  Unity,  Krishna,  "the  Self  that 
is  seated  in  the  hearts  of  all  beings." 

Do  not  be  shocked  when  I  say  that  from  our 
point  of  view  this  war  seems  very  childish,  very 
ignorant. 

War  was  noble  a  long  time  ago  when  man- 
kind was  on  its  way  out  and  needed  to  realize 
separateness ;  but  in  course  of  time  war  will  be- 
come not  only  unnecessary,  but  banal. 


80     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

I  am  not  jesting  with  serious  things.  I 
know  far  better  than  you  can  know  how  very 
serious  this  war  is,  for  I  have  watched  it  on 
both  planes. 

The  war  between  the  forces  of  good  and 
evil  was  not  banal.  In  the  human  heart  that 
war  will  go  on  for  a  long  time  yet,  aeons  on 
aeons;  but  the  day  has  come  when  men  should 
war  with  the  evil  in  themselves,  and  let  other 
men  war  with  the  evil  in  themselves.  The 
sword  of  Mars,  the  war-god,  will  not  rust  so 
long  as  the  Mars  in  man  wields  it  against  the 
powers  of  darkness  in  himself. 

I  have  seen  the  powers  of  darkness  in  men 
exteriorized,  have  seen  them  in  objective  form, 
and  I  assure  you  they  are  foemen  worthy  of 
your  steel.  Each  of  you  has  within  a  foeman 
worthy  of  his  steel. 

Each  man  has  also  the  Self,  the  divine,  the 
Christ,  the  Krishna  that  is  seated  in  the  hearts 
of  all  beings. 

I  want  to  tell  you  something  which  I  saw 
with  my  own  eyes. 

On  a  battlefield  in  France,  two  soldiers 
killed  each  other  with  the  bayonet.  The  devil 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     81 

in  each  escaped  with  the  soul.  They  were  not 
ordinary  men.  I  saw  these  two  devils,  these 
two  "dwellers  on  the  threshold,"  these  two  "de- 
sire-elementals,"  call  them  what  you  will.  Do 
you  think  they  fell  upon  each  other  to  destroy 
each  other?  Not  at  all.  Each  fell  upon  the 
soul  it  belonged  to.  They  had  no  interest  in 
each  other ;  they  had  nothing  to  give  or  to  take 
away  from  each  other,  these  devils,  dwellers, 
elementals. 

Do  you  see  what  I  mean? 

Your  enemy  is  within  you. 

The  one  you  fight  outside  is  your  brother. 
Love  him  with  brotherly  love  and  your  devil 
will  grow  weaker  as  your  angel  grows  stronger. 

Your  angel  is  descended  from  the  Atma,  the 
Christ,  the  Krishna  in  you.  It  is  similar  to  the 
Atma,  the  Christ,  the  Krishna  in  your  brother. 

The  devils  are  all  very  individual.  The  an- 
gels are  all  very  much  alike,  though  some  are 
stronger  than  others  and  older  in  experience. 

Seek  the  Christ  in  yourself,  that  it  may  arise, 
with  tidings  of  great  joy  unto  all  men. 

That  is  what  I  wish  to  say  to  the  world  on 
this  evening  before  Easter  Day. 

April  3. 


LETTER   XV 

LISTENING  IN  BRUSSELS 

NO,  do  not  expect  me  to  write  essays.    I 
am  writing  letters.    Let  me  be  as  dis- 
cursive as  I  please.    But  you  will  see 
at  the  end  of  my  labors  that  the  building  has 
a  frame,  and  that  all  the  parts  are  in  place. 

Having  philosophized  the  last  time,  I  will 
now  tell  you  a  story. 

When  the  German  army  passed  through  un- 
resisting Brussels  (three  days,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  it  was  passing  through,  a  long,  moving 
grey-green  river  of  men,  on  whose  helmetted 
ripples  the  sunlight  or  the  lamplight  glittered) , 
I  stood  for  an  hour  unnoticed  upon  a  balcony, 
reading  the  thoughts  of  man  after  man  as  he 
passed  before  my  place. 

As  I  have  explained  to  you  before,  I  have 
no  difficulty  in  reading  the  thoughts  of  the 
Germans;  it  is  only  in  trying  to  make  them 
understand  me  that  I  often  fail. 

The  river  of  men  and  the  river  of  thoughts, 
each  man  a  ripple,  each  thought  a  ripple ! 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     83 

Here  are  a  few  ripples  of  thought  which 

caught  the  light  of  my  attention: 
"What  a  beautiful  city  Brussels  is!" 
"My  feet  are  tired.    My  shoes  hurt  me." 
"That  tree  yonder  is  like  the  one  beside  the 

door  at  home." 

"Mother  will  be  making  coffee  at  this  hour." 
"What  a  pretty  girl — the  one  with  the  bread 

in  her  basket!" 

"I  wonder  if  Gretchen  will  talk  much  with 

Hans  now  I  am  gone." 

"That  gate  on  the  left  is  the  one  that  Marie 

sent  me  on  a  picture  postcard  last  year." 
"My  feet  are  tired.    My  shoes  hurt  me." 
"So  this  is  Brussels!    I  always  wanted  to 

see  it." 

"My  head  aches." 

"Deutschland    iiber    Alles!      Deutschland 

iiber  Alles!" 

"I  wonder  if  the  Lieutenant  paid  his  tailor." 

"How  warm  it  is !" 

"What  is  father  doing  now?" 

"I  wish  I  had  a  glass  of  beer!" 

"I  am  glad  we  don't  destroy  Brussels!" 

"What  is  all  this  war  about,  anyway?" 

"The  Fatherland!    The  Fatherland!" 


84     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"What  will  they  give  us  for  supper?" 

"I  wonder  where  we  are  going?" 

"This  isn't  so  fine  as  the  Unter  dem  Linden." 

"When  we  get  to  Paris  I  must  see  the  Venus 
of  Mao." 

"My  head  aches." 

"Our  baby  has  a  tooth!" 

"Will  it  ever  be  supper-time!" 

And  so  on  and  on  and  on,  as  the  long  grey- 
green  river  flowed  through  the  city  of  Brus- 
sels. 

And  these  were  the  men  that  in  a  little  while 
would  murder  and  rob  and  burn  and  rape,  and 
murder  and  rob  and  burn!  Many  of  them  had 
done  so  already — these  tired  men  with  their 
aimless,  unwarlike  thoughts,  their  common- 
place soldier  thoughts,  of  home  and  food  and 
aching  feet  and  of  postcards  Marie  sent  last 
year  and  the  hour  for  mother's  coffee ! 

What  power  transformed  them  into  devils? 
What  demon  dehumanized  them  till  they  for- 
got their  weariness?  Was  it  the  raucous  cry 
of  the  war-trumpet?  Was  it  the  devil  behind 
the  devil  who  blew  the  trumpet?  Was  it  the 
evil  spirit  of  a  nation,  or  merely  the  spirit  of 
war? 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     85 

It  was  all  of  these  things. 

Perhaps  when  they  began  their  marching 
they  thought  of  glory  and  hate  and  life  and 
death  and  honor;  but  they  had  been  marching 
long  and  their  thoughts  had  become  simple  as 
the  thoughts  of  weary  old  men. 

What  was  it  all  about?  What  power  was 
driving  them  on? 

Some  of  these  men  killed  unresisting  civil- 
ians, struck  down  helpless  children,  maltreated 
nuns  and  other  virgins,  drove  old  men  and  wo- 
men before  them  as  a  shield  against  the  fire  of 
the  opposing  forces. 

What  roused  the  devil  in  them  ?  Your  friend 
is  right  in  saying  that  the  war-trumpet  is  an 
instrument  that  can  rouse  the  demon  that 
sleeps  in  the  human  breast.  He  says  that  the 
demonic  forces  outside  can  make  their  entry 
into  our  world  and  our  personalities  riding  on 
the  tones  of  the  trumpet-horn.  He  is  right. 

He  says  that  it  brings  the  element  of  fire  into 
the  soul.  Profoundly  true!  Fire,  the  element 
of  destruction,  that  purifies  by  destroying  what 
cannot  resist  it.  Fire  in  the  soul  and  fire  in 
the  nerves  and  fire  at  the  end  of  the  rifle — and 
death  by  fire  to  all  that  gets  in  its  way! 


86     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

I  have  listened  for  days  to  the  ear-splitting 
noise  by  which  Germany  seeks  to  put  hell  into 
the  hearts  of  her  soldiers.  My  ears  rang  with 
it  yesterday. 

Why  do  you  start?  Have  you  not  yet  ac- 
customed yourself  to  the  thought  that  I  can 
go  back  and  forth,  from  the  hell  of  Europe  to 
the  purgatory  of  New  York?  Yes,  the  Ger- 
mans in  New  York  are  in  purgatory,  for  they 
know  that  their  cause  is  lost.  Purgatory  is 
for  purgation.  Let  us  hope  that  it  may  accom- 
plish its  purpose  in  their  hearts.  And  I  do  not 
say  this  to  be  unkind,  but  rather  as  a  blessing. 
I  love  the  Germans,  and  all  other  races.  So 
also  do  you — in  your  heart  of  hearts. 

Yes,  it  was  I  who,  through  an  easy  instru- 
ment, directed  you  to  the  German  doctor.  I 
wanted  you  to  see  how  good  a  German  can  be. 
There  are  many  such  in  that  hell-racked  na- 
tion. 

You  should  understand  that  hell  comes  into 
a  man — he  does  not  go  into  hell.  Have  you  not 
heard  that  man  is  the  Microcosm  of  the  Macro- 
cosm? Those  tired  grey-green  soldiers  that  I 
watched  in  their  inarch  through  Brussels  were 
each  of  them  large  enough  to  contain  hell  and 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     87 

heaven  and  a  world  of  spirits.  All  of  them  had 
contained  heaven  many  a  time,  when  listening 
to  the  strains  of  their  master-musicians.  It 
was  when  the  war-trumpet  sounded,  and  the 
war-hate  and  the  war-lust  awoke  in  them,  that 
they  contained  hell. 

Many  a  time  have  I  clutched  with  my  too- 
tenuous  hands  a  German  soldier  who  was  about 
to  disgrace  himself. 

Once,  at  Namur,  I  kept  a  young  man  from 
doing  something  that  would  have  darkened  his 
judgment  of  himself  while  his  life  lasted — and 
it  lasted  only  twenty-one  days  thereafter.  He 
was  a  good  boy ;  but  the  devil  awoke  in  him  as 
it  awoke  in  others.  It  was  because  he  was  more 
sensitive  than  some  others  that  I  could  make 
him  feel  my  restraining  hands.  He  thought 
they  were  the  hands  of  his  dead  grandfather, 
who  had  left  him  only  a  year  before.  What 
matter?  He  let  his  victim  escape. 

(Yes,  look  up  Namur  on  the  map,  if  you 
wish  to!  You  will  find  it  in  the  right  place. 
Your  uncertainty  as  to  Belgian  geography 
does  not  trouble  me;  but  your  return  to  the 
world  of  your  own  thoughts  has  broken  the 
thread  of  mine.) 


LETTER  XVI 

THE  SIXTH  RACE 

HAVE  you  thought  about  the  United 
States  after  this  war?  A  new  race  is 
being  prepared  for  in  the  United 
States.  That  is  why  you  had  to  be  born  there 
— you  through  whom  I  write.  That  is  why  I 
am  trying  to  use  you  in  my  work  for  Universal 
Brotherhood. 

No,  you  need  not  remain  in  the  United 
States.  It  is  better  that  you  should  continue 
to  mingle  with  other  races  in  their  old  habita- 
tions. 

The  Theosophical  Society  could  not  have 
been  born  anywhere  else.  Spiritualism  could 
not  have  been  born  anywhere  else.  In  the 
United  States  is  a  readiness  for  new  things,  a 
reaching  out  for  the  untried,  a  welcome  for 
things  because  they  are  new. 

Of  course  this  tendency  may  be  and  is 
abused.  Almost  any  faker  can  find  followers 
in  the  United  States;  but  without  that  hos- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     89 

pitable  spirit  towards  the  New,  the  great  new 
race  could  not  come  into  existence  there. 

This  race  is  not  made  of  new  souls,  but  of 
the  oldest  and  most  experienced  souls,  experi- 
enced in  other  lives  of  the  past.  The  ingen- 
uousness and  the  childlike  quality  of  Ameri- 
cans are  the  results  of  spiritual  maturity.  The 
race,  as  a  race,  is  in  its  youth;  but  the  souls  are 
old  as  time. 

After  they  have  taken  a  much  needed  rest, 
many  or  most  of  the  souls  that  go  out  by  death 
in  this  war  will  find  rebirth  in  the  United 
States.  Oh,  that  land  will  be  a  very  wonder- 
ful place  in  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  years! 

You  will  not  be  here  then,  unless  you  dis- 
cover the  fountain  of  immortal  youth,  or  un- 
less you  come  back  soon,  renouncing  the  rest 
in  heaven. 

Ponce  de  Leon  was  inspired  when  he  sought 
the  fountain  in  the  New  World.  It  is  there 
if  anywhere ;  but  Australia  and  Russia  will  run 
you  a  keen  race  for  the  future. 

No,  I  shall  not  tell  you  about  the  Seventh 
Race.  It  will  come  in  good  time;  but  now  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about  the  Sixth,  one  of 
whose  pioneers  you  are. 


90     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Do  not  cut  this  out  of  my  book  because  an 
enemy  once  said  that  you  were  egotistical.. 
Our  enemies  always  see  and  hate  their  own 
qualities  in  us.  Develop  some  quality  an 
enemy  has  not,  and  he  (or  she)  will  love  you 
for  it.  The  horseman  is  not  jealous  of  the 
musician  in  his  quality  as  musician.  It  is  the 
musician  who  is  jealous  of  the  musician,  the 
egotist  who  sees  and  hates  another's  egotism. 
If  Germany  were  a  weak  nation  she  could  not 
so  hate  England  for  her  greater  power. 

When  the  Sixth  Race  is  fully  incarnate,  all 
men  and  women  of  real  development  will  be 
able  to  see  in  the  astral  world,  and  to  hear  un- 
spoken words,  and  to  read  the  thoughts  of 
others.  Of  course  there  will  be  people  of  all 
grades  of  development  in  that  new  race. 
Equality  of  development  is  a  pretty  dream, 
you  Socialists.  Have  you  not  also  your  su- 
perior ones,  your  leaders?  The  less  developed 
souls  who  come  into  incarnation  with  the  Sixth 
Race  are  those  who  have  earned  in  the  past 
the  right  to  be  open  to  the  quickening  influ- 
ences of  that  race.  How  have  they  earned 
that  right?  By  their  willingness  to  change  and 
to  grow. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     91 

Go  out  on  the  hillside  and  watch  the  grow- 
ing things.  Take  a  leaf  from  the  book  of 
Nature. 

You  wonder  about  the  future  of  England. 
Old  England  is  provided  for.  Has  she  not 
given  birth  to  the  civilization  you  enjoy? 
Other  races  were  present,  of  course;  but  lan- 
guage tells  the  story. 

As  I  said  before,  England  has  been  an  in- 
strument in  the  hands  of  these  Great  Ones 
who  wished  to  make  possible  the  fraternity 
of  races.  She  has  carried  the  torch  round  the 
world.  She  has  tied  continents  together,  and 
woven  the  chain  which  will  bind  men  to  each 
other  in  days  that  are  to  come.-  Honor  her, 
for  she  deserves  honor. 

Honor  all  nations,  as  aggregates  of  souls, 
your  brother-souls;  but  honor  most  those  na- 
tions that  have  worked  with  the  Law  and  not 
against  it. 

Those  who  aspired  to  see  Germany  the 
cradle  of  the  new  race  should  have  made  less 
noise  in  the  birth-chamber.  They  have  scared 
the  angel  visitor  away. 

There  are  four  races  in  Europe  that  are 
cruel  races.  They  cannot  rock  the  cradle  of 


92     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

the  divine  infant.  They  would  not  remove 
the  pin  that  stuck  in  its  back,  lest  if  it  did  not 
suffer  and  cry  its  lungs  would  lack  air.  I 
need  not  name  these  races. 

The  Sixth  Race  is  a  sensitive  infant  and 
learns  more  through  love  than  through  disci- 
pline. The  Sixth  Race  will  apply  the  disci- 
pline to  itself  when  it  feels  the  need  of  it. 
Its  schoolmaster  will  be  curiosity,  and  its  play 
will  be  the  sciences  and  arts  of  peace.  Its 
cradle-song  will  be  a  chant  of  brotherhood. 
No,  it  could  not  be  rocked  in  a  German  cradle ; 
but  many  a  German- American  will  help  to 
rock  it.  They  make  lovely  cradle-songs,  the 
Germans,  when  they  forget  the  superiority  of 
being  grown-ups  and  go  back  to  the  fancies  of 
childhood,  the  myth-making  fancies. 

We  want  to  see  more  and  more  Frenchmen 
in  the  United  States,  for  France  has  more  to 
teach  the  new  race  than  has  any  other  nation 
— France,  the  inspired  prophet,  and  most  of 
all  France  the  critic.  Americans  are  not  criti- 
cal enough,  not  analytical  enough,  not  subtle 
enough.  America  needs  France,  and  the  men 
and  women  of  France.  You  have  heard  the 
old  saying,  "Every  man  has  two  countries, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     93 

his  own  and  France."  I  may  be  misquoting, 
but  the  idea  is  there. 

You  wonder  how  anyone  born  to  the  glory 
and  charm  of  France  should  ever  come  to  the 
New  World?  But  many  will  come,  and  more 
will  follow,  both  by  the  path  of  the  ocean  and 
by  the  path  of  rebirth.  You  came  that  way 
yourself,  if  you  but  knew  it. 

Recover  the  memory  of  past  births,  you  pi- 
oneers of  the  Sixth  Race!  You  can  do  it. 
It  is  part  of  the  heritage  of  that  race. 

America,  the  "melting-pot"  of  nations! 
You  were  not  made  to  rule  an  outside  empire. 
When  the  time  comes  make  over  the  Philippine 
Islands  to  a  nation  that  can  be  trusted  with 
them.  Your  empire  is  within  your  own  body, 
you  race  of  a  score  of  races,  you  inheritor  of 
a  score  of  fathers,  you  mother  of  the  one  new 
race! 

Increase  your  army  and  navy  so  long  as 
you  are  nervous.  Put  lightning-rods  on  your 
house  and  burglar-alarms  on  the  doors  and 
windows.  Feel  secure.  Then  dream  about 
brotherhood — when  you  can  trust  in  it. 

Sit  by  the  fire  of  your  own  coal  dug  from 
the  ground  by  Dutchmen,  as  it  burns  in  a 


94     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

chimney  of  your  own  bricks  made  by  the  hands 
of  Irishmen,  read  your  own  newspaper  printed 
in  the  language  of  Englishmen,  by  the  light  of 
your  own  lamp  made  by  a  German,  on  your 
own  hearth-rug  made  by  a  Turk  or  an  Ar- 
menian, enjoy  the  feel  of  your  own  muscles 
trained  by  a  Swede,  in  your  own  linen  washed 
by  a  Chinaman,  listen  to  your  daughter  play- 
ing on  your  own  piano  the  music  of  a  Russian, 
an  Italian,  a  Pole  or  a  Frenchman,  see  all 
over  your  own  room  things  made  by  the  sons 
of  a  dozen  other  races,  your  neighbors,  your 
fellow-citizens,  your  fellow-Americans,  then 
tell  me  whether  you  dare  not  to  believe  in  Uni- 
versal Brotherhood,  and  in  the  new  race,  the 
synthesis  of  all  races ! 

April  8. 


LETTER  XVII 

AN   AMERICAN   ON   GUARD 

I  WANT  to  speak  more  of  France,  and  of 
what  she  can  do  for  America,  the  land  of 
the  coming  new  race. 

I  have  spoken  before  of  her  love,  which  is 
so  great  that  even  her  enemies  cannot  hate  her. 
I  have  praised  her  critical  genius,  which  analy- 
ses all  things  and  compares  one  with  another. 
But  now  I  want  to  speak  of  her  charm  and 
her  courtesy. 

You  have  said  yourself  that  good-manners 
are  the  imitation  of  kind-heartedness.  To  imi- 
tate is  to  emulate.  A  race  that  has  charming 
manners  has  a  heart.  A  race  that  is  brusque 
needs  to  cultivate  heart. 

Employ  French  teachers  in  your  schools, 
you  Americans.  A  French  teacher  or  a 
French  mother  tells  her  children  not  to  do  a 
certain  thing  because  it  is  not  pretty,  another 
word  for  charming,  for  kind-hearted.  If  you 
imitate  kind-heartedness  in  this  way,  perhaps 


96     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

you  will  some  day  feel  it,  you  American  chil- 
dren. 

By  setting  up  the  standard  of  beauty  in  de- 
portment you  need  have  no  fear  of  forgetting 
the  ethical.  You  all  drank  Puritan  ethics  with 
your  mother's  milk;  there  is  no  danger  that 
those  precepts  will  be  lost  if  you  practise 
charm  a  little  by  way  of  variety. 

Every  face  in  France  was  once  a  smiling 
face.  It  was  not  so  this  afternoon  when  I 
passed  through  France  on  my  way  to  you. 
But  the  faces  are  still  brave,  because  it  is  not 
pretty  to  make  a  parade  of  sorrow.  I  know 
the  excess  of  French  mourning-apparel  might 
be  called  a  parade  of  sorrow,  but  the  black  is 
worn  as  a  mark  of  respect  for  all  the  dead  of 
France. 

Taste !  There  is  a  race  which  has  it.  And  in 
advising  America  to  learn  from  the  French, 
I  am  naturally  selecting  the  good  qualities  of 
that  nation.  We  all  have  faults  of  our  own. 

The  taste  of  the  French  in  the  United  States 
at  this  time!  Do  they  print  journals  in  Eng- 
lish attacking  their  enemy?  Do  they  support 
a  lobby  in  Washington  and  a  press-bureau  in 
New  York?  If  so  I  have  not  heard  of  them, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     97 

and  we  hear  of  most  things  out  here — we  who 
keep  our  ears  to  the  ground.  If  they  grieve 
for  their  stricken  country,  they  do  not  drop 
their  tears  on  America's  freshly  ironed  shirt- 
bosom.  If  they  hate  their  enemy,  they  hate 
him  with  a  quiet,  well-bred  hate.  If  France 
wins  a  victory  in  the  field,  they  do  not  bluster 
about  it.  If  France  loses  in  the  field,  they  do 
not  call  their  enemy  a  rattlesnake  or  some  other 
kind  of  reptile.  It  would  not  be  pretty.  It 
might  not  be  unethical,  but  it  would  be  bad 
taste. 

Americans  bluster  too  much.  I  said  that 
when  I  was  myself  an  American,  before  I  was 
uprooted  and  became  a  citizen  of  the  world  in- 
visible and  universal,  and  I  have  not  changed 
my  mind  by  association  with  angels,  adepts 
and  masters.  They  never  bluster,  but  the 
devils  often  do. 

In  advising  America  to  learn  from  France 
those  things  in  which  France  is  supreme,  I  am 
not  depreciating  other  races.  Each  nation  can 
learn  something  from  every  other  nation.  The 
Chinese  and  the  Japanese  have  points  where 
they  rise  above  their  neighbors.  So  have  the 
Americans. 


98     WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

This  war  has  brought  out  the  dominant 
traits  in  all  the  warring  peoples,  and  their 
complementary  traits.  Have  you  ever  thought 
of  the  "turbaned  Turk"  (or,  to  be  less  Shakes- 
pearean, the  fezzed  Turk)  as  being  gullible? 
Treacherous  races  are  always  gullible,  as  cruel 
races  are  apt  to  be  sentimental — in  all  that 
touches  themselves.  "Free  America"  must  be- 
ware of  too  many  laws.  England,  too  con- 
scious of  her  virtue,  will  one  day  yield  to  temp- 
tation. Germany,  "over  all,"  has  got  the 
whole  world  on  top  of  her.  Italy,  the  excitable, 
is  now  deliberating  to  a  degree  that  would  be 
dangerous  for  any  other  land.  "Neutral 
America"  is  so  unneutral  that  her  right  hand 
threatens  her  left,  and  both  the  whole  body. 

Do  not  be  impatient  with  President  Wilson. 
He  is  dealing  with  the  problems  of  the  present 
war  as  if  they  were  dated  500  B.  C.,  and  the 
long  view  is  apt  to  be  the  clear  view.  The  pro- 
fessor in  him  is  safer  than  the  politician  in 
him.  He  is  not  happy  just  now.  Why?  Oh, 
that  is  an  affair  of  State,  and  I  am  writing 
for  publication!  I  know  so  many  secrets  that 
I  am  discreet  as  the  family  doctor. 

But  there  is  an  "American  on  guard  to- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN     99 

night."  Who  is  he?  Old  Abraham  Lincoln, 
who  renounced  heaven  that  he  might  watch 
over  the  land  he  lived  and  died  for. 

No,  I  shall  not  tell  you  any  more  about  him. 
There  is  something  sacred  in  a  soul's  renounc- 
ing rest.  He  will  not  go  too  far  away  until 
America  passes  through  her  next  great  trial. 
When  will  that  be?  As  the  Beautiful  Being 
says,  "Nay,  Child,  you  ask  too  much." 

And  still  you  are  eager  to  know  about  Abra- 
ham Lincoln !  I  was  eager  to  know  about  him 
myself  a  few  short  years  ago;  but  I  did  not 
ask  too  many  questions.  It  would  not  have 
been  pretty,  as  the  French  mothers  say. 

April  8. 


LETTER  XVIII 

A  MASTER  OF  COMPASSION 

IN  my  former  book  I  reminded  you  that 
your  friends  who  had  passed  into  the  as- 
tral world  did  not  know  everything;  that 
though  their  sight  was  longer  than  before  and 
their  eyes  less  clouded  by  matter,  they  yet 
could  not  always  prophesy  as  glibly  as  for- 
tune-tellers— or  at  least  that  they  were  wiser 
not  to  attempt  it.  Now  I  have  in  mind  an 
illustration  of  that  very  point,  only  the  subjects 
are  much  more  exalted  than  the  ordinary  dwell- 
ers on  the  astral  plane. 

There  is,  for  instance,  not  perfect  unanimity 
in  our  minds  as  to  all  the  details  of  the  end  of 
this  war.  There  are  two  of  us  who  often  dis- 
cuss ways  and  means,  who,  while  desiring  the 
same  result  of  peace,  have  slightly  varying 
views  as  to  the  best  possible  way  to  bring  that 
result  to  pass. 

One  of  our  Brothers,  who  is  still  occupying 
his  physical  body  most  of  the  time,  has  a  great 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    101 

desire  to  soften  so  far  as  possible  the  blow  that 
is  to  fall  upon  one  of  the  nations  in  this  war. 
We  all  want  to  soften  so  far  as  possible  the 
blow  for  that  nation;  but  he  has  in  his  mind  a 
plan  which  would,  if  put  into  effect,  very  ma- 
terially soften  it.  He  knows  that  he  could  per- 
haps bring  it  about  in  the  way  he  wishes;  yet 
he  is  far  too  wise  to  force  the  issue.  He  will 
not  force  the  issue.  He  tries  softly  to  inspire 
those  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  suggest 
the  beginnings  of  peace  according  to  his  ideas. 
We  do  nothing  to  deflect  the  current  of  his 
loving  thoughts,  for  he  is  the  only  one  among 
us — and  by  us  I  mean  the  Brothers  of  a  cer- 
tain development — he  is  the  only  one  among 
us  who  has  a  greater  tenderness  for  one  race 
than  for  all  the  others.  He  is  not  so  old  as 
some  of  us,  but  he  is  one  of  the  greatest. 

He  may  be  able  to  do  what  he  wishes,  but 
I  personally  am  not  sure.  In  one  way  he  is 
wiser  than  I  am;  but  my  judgment  is  not  at 
all  influenced  by  tenderness  for  my  own  native 
land,  which  is  not  yet  directly  concerned,  and 
so  I  may  be  a  safer  judge  than  he. 

Do  not  take  this  as  an  admission  of  weak- 
ness in  my  Brother.  Love  is  not  a  weakness. 


102    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

This  Brother  wrote  a  prediction  through 
the  hand  of  a  pupil  of  his  not  long  ago.  Per- 
haps it  will  be  verified.  Nothing  will  be 
thrown  by  any  of  us  in  the  way  of  its  verifica- 
tion. In  fact,  if  it  is  the  best  way  it  will  have 
the  support  of  all. 

Even  a  Master  does  not  know  everything, 
though  to  the  blind  eyes  of  lesser  men  he  seems 
to  know  everything.  And  a  Master  is  too  wise 
to  attempt  to  force  his  individual  will  upon  the 
world.  The  black  magician  is  willing  to  bring 
things  to  pass  by  the  power  of  his  will,  and 
often  he  can  do  it;  but  he  does  not  always 
count  on  the  reaction.  The  White  Master  al- 
ways counts  on  the  reaction.  He  works  with 
the  Law. 

There  is  arising  now  in  America  a  school 
of  magic,  for  it  is  a  form  of  magic  that  they 
practise,  and  the  teachers  of  this  school  in- 
struct their  followers  how  to  bring  events  to 
pass,  how  to  demonstrate  in  the  material  world 
the  material  desires  of  their  hearts.  They  can 
do  it,  the  strong  ones  can,  if  their  desires  are 
not  against  the  great  stream  of  desire  that 
carries  the  race  forward.  But  often  these  ma- 
terial desires  are  not  in  strict  accord  with  the 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    103 

karma  of  the  person  desiring;  that  is,  the  bal- 
ance of  karma  being  worked  out  now  may  be 
so  violently  drawn  upon  in  one  direction,  that 
for  the  following  life  there  will  be  left  only 
a  lot  of  unhappy  karma,  weak  karma,  which 
has  not  been  wisely  distributed  over  that  time 
in  which  they  have  been  operating  with  this 
new  plaything,  this  magic  power  which  they 
are  using  to  make  their  present  lives  one  glad 
sweet  song. 

The  way  to  get  what  you  want  is  to  will 
what  the  great  Law  decides.  That  is  what  the 
Masters  do.  And  I  am  not  denying  the  great- 
ness of  my  Brother  whom  I  mentioned  a  few 
pages  back.  He  wills  the  will  of  the  great 
Law,  the  same  as  all  of  us  do;  and  if  his  ten- 
derness for  his  native  land  has  inspired  him 
to  devise  a  plan  which  seems  in  harmony  with 
the  great  Law,  he  would  not  put  the  plan  into 
effect  if  he  could,  should  he  realize  that  it  was 
not  in  accordance  with  that  law. 

There  is  always  danger  for  the  man  who  is 
not  a  Master  in  pitting  his  judgment  against 
the  law  of  karma.  If  a  poor  man  wants  to  be 
rich,  and  if  he  wills  hard  enough,  he  can  be- 
come rich;  but  he  many  miss  by  the  way  other 


104    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

things  that  his  soul  needs  far  more  than  it  needs 
riches. 

One  of  the  greatest  dangers  that  face  Amer- 
ica in  the  future  is  the  danger  of  black  magic. 
Among  a  hundred  men  or  women  who  take  up 
New  Thought,  Christian  Science,  ceremonial 
magic,  and  certain  philosophies  with  even  loft- 
ier verbal  aims,  there  may  be  one  whose  desire 
is  perfectly  pure  and  unselfish. 

There  is  great  power  in  America.  The  un- 
trodden hills  and  mountains  are  full  of  fresh 
new  forces  that  man  may  draw  upon.  Also  the 
astral  world  above  America — that  layer  of  the 
astral  which  lies  immediately  outside  the  physi- 
cal continent,  as  the  aura  of  man  extends  be- 
yond his  body — that  layer  of  the  astral  world 
above  America  is  full  of  forces,  elemental  and 
astral  forces,  which  can  be  used  consciously 
by  those  who  know  how  to  use  them,  and  which 
are  used  unconsciously  by  those  whose  personal 
desires  are  so  strong  that  the  more  or  less  im- 
personal forces  are  obliged  to  follow  them — 
swung  into  line  by  the  power  of  desire  or  will. 

Great  danger  lies  that  way  for  those  who 
use  such  forces  for  evil,  and  between  selfish 
desire  and  evil  the  veil  is  very  thin. 


WAR  LETTERS  PROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    105 

There  are  seeking  incarnation  in  this  new 
race  many  of  those  whose  magical  work  along 
dark  lines  was  interrupted  in  the  old  days  of 
Atlantis.  Yes,  that  story  of  Atlantis  is  true. 
Many  of  these  souls  are  now  coining  in,  some 
here  and  some  in  other  countries;  but  their 
main  course  is  in  the  direction  of  the  New 
World.  More  and  more  the  forces  of  magic 
will  be  used  in  the  New  World.  It  is  for  you 
and  for  others  who  know  that  magic  used  for 
selfish  purposes  is  always  black  magic,  to  warn 
those  who  are  too  much  fascinated  by  the  idea 
that  they  can  be  the  makers  of  their  own  for- 
tunes at  the  expense  of  others. 

This  warning  is  much  needed.  And  I  want 
to  say  to  those  whose  only  desire  for  occult 
knowledge  is  that  they  may  use  it  for  their 
own  selfish  ends,  that  if  they  stand  in  the  way 
of  the  Law  that  works  for  unselfishness  in  the 
new  race,  they  will  be  destroyed  again  as  they 
were  destroyed  in  ancient  Atlantis.  And  I 
do  not  mean  that  their  souls  will  be  destroyed, 
but  that  their  lives  will  be  cut  short  and  their 
influence  for  evil  nullified. 

Do  not  be  shocked  when  I  tell  you  that  there 
have  been  working  in  Europe  during  and  be- 


106    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

fore  the  present  war  "artificial  elementals" 
that  were  created  in  the  time  of  Atlantis. 
Those  beings,  for  they  have  a  force  and  a 
pseudo-individuality,  have  been  used  in  this 
war  by  those  (now  reincarnated)  who  created 
them  ages  ago.  They  have  drifted  to  their 
creators  by  the  power  of  attraction. 

One  such  creature  was  destroyed  last  July, 
and  I  assisted  in  its  destruction. 

At  the  time  of  the  birth  of  a  new  race,  will 
has  great  dynamics.  Use  your  will  with  the 
Law,  not  against  it. 

Do  you  realize,  you  who  put  your  desires 
above  all  things,  that  each  of  you  is  but  a  drop 
in  the  stream  of  souls?  The  drop  that  would 
isolate  itself  from  the  stream  may  be  sucked 
up  by  the  sun  in  the  form  of  vapor  and  wait 
a  long  time  before  entering  the  stream  again. 

Now  do  not  take  any  of  this  as  applying  to 
my  Brother  who  wants  to  soften  the  blow  for 
his  native  land.  I  want  to  soften  the  future 
of  my  native  land,  and  that  is  why  I  am  writ- 
ing about  the  new  race  that  is  going  to  be 
born  in  America.  But  if  I  should  learn, 
through  counsel  with  my  Brothers  or  through 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    107 

individual  inspiration,  that  it  was  best  that  the 
new  race  should  be  born  elsewhere,  I  would 
work  with  the  same  devotion  to  bring  it  into 
being  in  that  other  place.  And  so  would  my 
Brother.  We  who  work  with  the  Law  put  the 
welfare  of  the  human  race  above  our  own  in- 
dividual loves.  ,  All  races  are  one  race — the 
human  race — and  we  work  together  as  one. 

April  10. 


LETTER  XIX 

THE  ROSE- VEILED  STRANGER 

ONE  day  the  angel  whom  we  call  the 
Beautiful  Being  came  to  me  leading 
another  angel  by  the  hand.  Long  as- 
sociation with  this  extraordinary  being  has 
taught  me  never  to  be  surprised  by  anything 
it  does.  I  accept  its  vagaries  as  expressions 
of  a  state  of  consciousness  above  and  beyond 
my  own,  and  much  that  I  have  learned  during 
the  last  three  years  I  owe  to  its  whimsical  but 
tender  friendship  for  me. 

As  I  explained  in  my  former  writing,  the 
Beautiful  Being — whom  we  call  an  angel  for 
want  of  a  better  term — has  never  shared  the 
physical  life  of  earth.  It  is  a  being  of  another 
evolution  than  the  human,  and  for  that  reason 
its  views  of  human  life  are  uniquely  valuable. 

It  smiled  as  it  came  to  me,  leading  by  the 
hand  another  similar  to  itself  but  far  less  like 
mankind. 

Introductions  in  the  celestial  regions  are 
often  very  unconventional;  but  the  Beautiful 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    109 

Being,  who  has  observed  the  life  of  men,  some- 
times amuses  me  by  delicious  mimicry  of  the 
ways  of  mortals. 

"Rose-veiled  one,"  it  now  said  to  its  angelic 
companion,  "permit  me  to  present  to  you  my 
friend  'X',  a  Judge  recently  arrived  from  the 
planet  Earth,  who  will  consent  I  am  sure  to 
act  as  your  cicerone  over  a  section  of  territory 
where  history  is  in  the  making.  Ask  him  any- 
thing you  will  and  he  will  answer  you — if  he 
can.  He  is  still  unlearned  in  the  language  of 
your  distant  star;  but  he  can  converse  in 
thoughts  with  you  whose  coarsest  vesture  is  a 
body  of  thought." 

I  expressed  my  pleasure  at  meeting  the 
stranger,  and  asked  if  I  should  show  it  a  bat- 
tlefield. 

"I  do  not  understand  the  idea — battlefield," 
it  answered;  "but  I  should  like  to  see  it." 

"You  will  understand  far  less  when  you 
have  seen  it,"  smiled  the  Beautiful  Being. 

It  chanced  that  day  that  the  opposing  forces 
in  France  and  Belgium  were  unusually  active 
in  the  beginning  of  the  Spring  campaign,  and 
I  led  iny  two  friends  to  a  point  where  they 
could  watch  the  combat. 


110    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"What  are  those  beings  down  there  send- 
ing back  and  forth?"  asked  the  rose-veiled 
stranger. 

"Those  objects  are  known  as  shells,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"Shells?"  the  stranger  returned  in  bewilder- 
ment. 

The  Beautiful  Being  answered  for  me. 

"Shells  are  elaborately  convoluted  houses  in 
which  our  brothers  of  the  great  deep  live  and 
disport  themselves." 

The  look  of  bewilderment  increased  on  the 
face  of  the  stranger. 

"My  friend  forgets,"  I  said,  "that  you  know 
not  the  language  of  earth,  where  a  word,  an 
arbitrary  symbol  for  an  idea,  may  stand  for 
two  ideas  very  dissimilar." 

"What  are  those  objects  that  the  beings 
down  there  are  sending  back  and  forth?"  the 
stranger  repeated. 

I  have  to  translate  its  form  of  speech  into 
ordinary  English  to  make  it  intelligible.  Lit- 
erally, its  communication  would  stand  like 
this:  "?  Objects  beings  sending  reciprocally?" 

From  my  long  association  with  angels,  both 
those  with  astral  bodies  and  those  without, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    111 

such  a  form  of  speech  is  intelligible  to  me;  and 
I  answered,  translating  my  cumbrous  native 
idiom  into  the  simpler  language  of  ideas : 

"The  objects  that  are  hurled  back  and  forth 
between  those  beings  on  the  plain  below  us  are 
explosive  shells,  with  a  marvelous  power  to 
shatter  the  forms  of  other  objects  and  to  scat- 
ter them  in  all  directions." 

"Is  it  a  form  of  play?"  asked  the  rose- veiled 
stranger. 

"It  is  not,"  I  answered.    "It  is  war." 

"War?" 

All  the  horror  that  in  my  mind  is  associated 
with  the  word  war  was  conveyed  by  my  thought 
to  the  mind  of  the  angelic  visitor,  and  its  rosy 
veil  grew  pale  with  pain. 

"What  is  this  strange  emotion  that  I  feel?" 
it  asked.  "Truly,  were  it  not  for  your  pres- 
ence here,  my  friends,  I  should  desire  to  go 
away." 

"The  emotion  that  you  feel,"  I  said,  "is  a 
sympathetic  reflection  of  the  emotions  of  war." 

"And  what  is  war?" 

"A  horrible  passion  felt  mutually  and  in- 
dulged by  two  opposing  aggregates  of  souls, 
by  which  they  are  enabled  to  overcome  their 


112    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

natural  pity  and  to  destroy  each  other's  bodies 
in  vast  numbers." 

The  veil  of  the  stranger  grew  almost  white. 

"And  does  God  permit  this  horror?"  it 
asked. 

"He  permits  it  on  the  planet  Earth." 

Now  the  word  God  is  not  an  adequate  trans- 
lation of  the  idea  expressed  in  the  angel's  ques- 
tion, but  let  it  stand.  The  real  idea  is  untrans- 
latable by  any  one  word  in  any  language  of 
earth.  It  was  a  composite  of  Love  and  Time 
and  Purpose,  raised  to  the  highest  power,  an 
idea  for  which  I  can  find  no  other  word  than 
God. 

"Earth  is  a  strange  star!"  the  angel  said. 

"The  inhabitants  of  this  world  have  a  com- 
mon saying  to  that  effect,"  I  answered.  "It 
is  a  fragment  of  race  wisdom,  handed  down 
from  their  remote  ancestors,  who,  when  they 
first  tried  to  adjust  their  celestial  conscious- 
ness to  the  baffling  conditions  of  this  star  on 
which  they  had  been  placed  for  their  educa- 
tion, observed  to  one  another,  'This  is  a  strange 
world.5  " 

"And  are  they  obliged  to  perpetrate  this 
horror  before  us  by  the  conditions  of  this 
planet?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    113 

"No." 

"Then  why  do  they  do  it?" 

"From  force  of  habit." 

"Then  was  it  ever  necessary?" 

"In  far  away  times,"  I  said,  "men  were  more 
isolated  than  at  present,  there  were  fewer  of 
them  in  incarnation,  and  a  brilliant  archangel 
who  had  their  training  in  charge  taught  them 
to  develop  courage  and  resource,  and  to  ac- 
centuate their  egos,  by  struggling  with  each 
other,  two  by  two." 

"But  there  are  millions  of  beings  down 
there!"  the  angel  exclaimed.  "And  I  see 
bodies  fall  by  thousands!" 

"That  is  what  they  call  a  great  victory,"  I 
said,  "and  one  of  their  commanders  gives  to 
those  who  have  slaughtered  a  vast  number  a 
little  iron  cross." 

"An  iron  cross?    Why  iron?" 

"Iron  is  the  metal  of  Mars,"  I  said,  "Mars, 
their  war-god." 

"And  why  a  cross?" 

"It  is  the  symbol  of  their  Christ." 

"The  one  who  died  down  here  to  make  men 
love  one  another?" 

"The  same,"  I  admitted. 


114    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Truly,  I  agree  with  the  remote  ancestors 
of  these  people,  from  whom  they  have  inher- 
ited the  saying,  'This  is  a  strange  world.' ' 

"Would  you  like  to  approach  nearer?"  I 
asked. 

The  stranger  hesitated,  then  said,  with  a 
patient  smile: 

"My  friend,"  glancing  at  the  Beautiful  Be- 
ing, "wishes  me  to  learn  somethiug  of  this  star. 
I  will  approach  nearer." 

We  descended  to  perhaps  a  hundred  feet 
above  the  lane  which  separated  the  enemies. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  the  stranger.  "The 
souls  are  leaving  their  bodies !  Is  that  the  pur- 
pose of  this  business,  to  free  souls  from  bond- 
age?" 

"Not  directly,"  I  answered.  "Each  would 
like  to  hold  the  other  in  bondage;  but  being 
unable  to  do  that  to  any  great  extent,  they  take 
the  opposite  way." 

The  stranger  looked  more  confused. 

"My  friend,"  explained  the  Beautiful  Be- 
ing to  me,  "came  from  a  region  where  the  Law 
of  Opposites  does  not  apply." 

"You  have  never  taken  me  there  in  our  wan- 
derings!" I  exclaimed. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    115 

"No,  you  are  so  attached  to  the  Law  of  Op- 
posites." 

This  was  an  old  jest  between  me  and  the 
Beautiful  Being. 

"Look!"  the  stranger  interrupted  me. 
"There  is  a  soul  coming  toward  us  now." 

I  went  forward  to  greet  the  newcomer.  He 
was  a  German  officer. 

"Welcome,"  I  said,  but  he  seemed  not  to 
understand  me.  The  face  of  his  astral  body 
was  contorted,  as  if  he  had  died  in  pain. 

Now  the  Beautiful  Being  seems  to  know  all 
the  languages  of  earth;  and  though  the  purity 
of  its  nature  is  such  that  few  on  earth  can  un- 
derstand it,  yet  when  a  soul  leaves  its  body  it 
can  understand  the  speech  of  the  Beautiful 
Being  if  there  is  anything  in  its  nature  that  re- 
sponds to  the  higher  vibration  which  makes 
the  life  of  that  angel  so  intense  and  wonderful. 

"Welcome,"  said  the  Beautiful  Being  to  the 
soul,  in  the  accents  of  his  native  land. 

"Where  am  I?"  asked  the  bewildered  soul. 

"You  are  in  the  region  above  the  world," 
the  Beautiful  Being  answered. 

"You  mean " 

"I  mean  that*  your  name  will  be  in  the  list  of 
the  dead." 


116    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Then  it  has  come!" 

"Yes." 

"But  I  always  feared  death." 

"You  see  it  is  nothing  to  fear." 

"Where  is  the  Kaiser?" 

"At  his  headquarters." 

"Can  I  not  report  to  him?" 

"If  you  wish." 

We  moved  farther  east — slowly,  for  the 
newly  freed  soul  had  not  yet  learned  that  dis- 
tance is  nothing. 

We  found  the  War-Lord  seated  beside  a 
table  looking  at  a  map.  His  face  was  drawn 
and  haggard. 

"There,"  I  said  to  the  stranger,  "is  the  man 
who  is  believed,  by  the  whole  world  outside  his 
own  country,  to  have  caused  this  vast  war." 

The  stranger  (and  also  the  soul)  approached 
and  read  the  thoughts  in  the  brain  of  the  War- 
Lord.  I  give  them  as  they  were,  disconnected, 
tragic  in  their  import: 

"The  slaughter  of  our  forces!  God  punish 
England !  I  am  the  Lord's  chosen !  I  cannot 
make  a  mistake!  My  generals  have  blun- 
dered. I  will  degrade — (the  name  of  our 
newly-arrived  charge).  This  defeat  is  his 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    117 

fault.  I  ordered  him  to  take  those  trenches. 
He  has  lost  our  own  instead.  I  cannot  make 
a  mistake!  I  am  the  Lord's  chosen!" 

The  Beautiful  Being  turned  to  the  soul  who 
had  been  a  General. 

"Do  you  wish  to  report  yourself  to  the 
Kaiser?" 

The  eyes  he  turned  to  us  were  sad. 

"I  will  not  trouble  the  Kaiser,"  he  said. 

A  silence  had  fallen  between  us.  After  a 
little,  the  Beautiful  Being  turned  to  the  Gen- 
eral again,  and  its  face  was  soft  with  pity. 

"Can  I  not  do  something  for  you?"  it 
asked. 

"Will  you  take  me  to  my  mother,  who  died 
of  grief  for  my  only  brother's  death,  in  the 
early  days  of  the  war?  I  am  very  tired.  I 
want  to  see  my  old  mother." 

The  eyes  of  the  rose-veiled  stranger  were 
luminous  with  wonder. 

"Why,  there  is  even  love  in  this  strange 
star!"  it  said. 

April  11. 


LETTER  XX 

ABOVE  THE  BATTLEFIELDS 

PICTURE  to  yourself  a  battlefield,   a 
long-stretching  irregular  double  line  of 
men  and  guns  and  horses  and  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  war. 

In  the  old  days  on  earth  I  once  gave  some 
study  to  the  theory  and  practice  of  war,  but 
that  labor  had  little  value  in  preparing  me 
to  study  this  war.  Not  only  did  it  take  for 
granted  conditions  that  no  longer  exist,  but 
my  point  of  observation  then  was  an  imagin- 
ary station  on  one  side  or  the  other  of  an 
imaginary  field;  now  I  am  really  here,  there 
and  everywhere.  I  read  the  thoughts  of  the 
commanders  on  both  sides,  I  am  with  the  men 
in  the  trenches  sometimes  half -buried  in  mud 
and  water,  I  am  riding  with  the  cavalry,  I  go 
forward  with  the  guns  of  the  artillery,  I  go  out 
and  up  with  the  escaping  spirits  of  the  dead — 
go  with  them  into  the  hell  of  confusion  that 
almost  always  swallows  them  for  a  time  after 
they  are  violently  thrust  from  their  bodies. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    119 

Truly,  "War  is  hell!"  Have  no  glorious 
delusions  to  the  contrary,  you  who  dwell  in 
the  haunts  of  peace  and  babble  of  what  you 
know  not. 

The  horrors  do  not  end  when  the  guns  cease 
firing.  The  dark  and  silent  night  of  rain  is 
full  of  souls  in  bewilderment  and  torment. 
Often  one  will  grope  his  way  hither  and 
thither,  seeking  to  find  a  trench-mate  to  whom 
he  had  become  attached  in  the  camaraderie  of 
war — that  sweet  flower  which  grows  upon  an 
ugly  stem.  Often  they  live  over  and  over  again 
the  rage  and  madness  of  the  attack;  they 
plunge  an  imaginary  bayonet  into  the  form 
of  an  imaginary  foe ;  or,  if  a  mass  of  them  are 
together,  and  they  generally  are,  they  strike 
recklessly  at  anything  before  them,  conscious 
always  of  an  opposing  force. 

The  General  of  whom  I  wrote  in  my  last 
letter  was  a  man  of  marked  spiritual  develop- 
ment ;  he  soon  broke  away  from  the  entangle- 
ments of  matter;  he  was  a  devotee  to  whom  his 
country  was  a  god  and  his  Emperor  a  hero 
to  be  followed  with  aspiration.  But  most  men 
who  die  on  the  battlefields  are  common  soldiers 
who  fight  because  it  is  the  will  of  the  mass 


120    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

behind  them.  They  generally  go  out  into  dark- 
ness for  a  time,  and  most  of  them  wander  in 
darkness  and  bewilderment  for  varying 
periods. 

Some,  on  the  contrary,  are  vividly  conscious 
almost  from  the  hour  of  death.  These  may  at- 
tack the  men  of  the  opposing  army  while  they 
sleep.  The  dreams  of  the  battlefields  are  ter- 
rible in  their  intensity. 

Sometimes  again,  for  in  the  general  confus- 
ion distinctions  may  be  quite  lost,  souls  that 
had  believed  themselves  enemies  cling  together 
in  the  tragic  yearning  of  the  dark  that  sepa- 
rates the  worlds  of  the  "invisible."  In  their 
great  need  they  do  not  know  their  former 
friends  from  their  former  enemies.  Another 
pale  flower  that  grows  from  the  ugly  stem  of 
war! 

The  astral  forms  of  men  of  low  develop- 
ment are  often  found  here  in  shocking  distor- 
tion, their  consciousness  only  a  glimmer,  and 
with  no  power  of  feeling  anything  but  pain. 
No  wonder  the  dreams  of  the  unselfish  lovers 
of  humanity  are  full  of  horror  during  these 
dark  nights  of  the  world,  for  there  are  many 
noncombatants  in  all  lands  whose  hours  of 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    121 

sleep  are  given  to  a  devoted  labor  for  the  souls 
that  need  help  so  horribly.  There  is  one  man 
whom  you  know  who  bears  at  this  time  a  bur- 
den almost  superhuman,  and  speaks  of  it  to  no 
one. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  how  you  yourself 
spent  the  nights  of  many  months,  and  when  we 
bade  you  cease  that  labor  it  was  only  that  you 
might  have  more  strength  for  the  labor  of 
writing  these  pages  at  my  dictation.  A  soul 
still  held  in  the  flesh  cannot  work  all  day  and 
all  night.  That  is  burning  the  astral  candle 
at  both  ends. 

When  you  return  to  the  countries  now  dev- 
astated by  war,  some  of  your  friends  will  re- 
late to  you  experiences  similar  to  your  own 
during  these  terrible  months.  They  who  can 
be  used  are  called  upon  when  the  need  is  great- 
est, and  the  need  is  immense  at  this  time. 

Realize  that  those  souls  in  the  lower  regions 
of  the  astral  world  are  actually  in  space  near 
the  ground  of  the  physical  planet.  Those  who 
hang  over  the  battlefields  where  they  met  their 
fate  are  still  thrilled  or  horrified  by  the  noise 
of  the  battle  horns,  they  can  still  hear  the 
shriek  of  shells  and  feel  the  shattering  force  of 


122    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

the  explosions.  Day  in,  day  out  these  unfor- 
tunate earth-bound  ones  live  over  and  over 
again  the  emotions  of  war,  night  after  night 
they  dread  the  morning  when  the  sounds  will 
begin  again.  They  cannot  get  away.  They 
are  not  free  merely  because  their  bodies  are 
buried  under  a  few  feet  of  earth,  or  worse  still 
left  unburied. 

I  advise  you  to  avoid  for  some  years  at  least 
the  actual  scenes  of  these  battles.  You  can 
go  to  Switzerland  or  to  the  more  southern  re- 
gions of  France,  but  do  not  stay  long  in  North- 
ern France  or  Belgium,  or  in  any  other  place 
that  may  be  thus  affected. 

The  thought  world  of  England  is  just  now 
troubled,  but  the  layer  of  astral  matter  im- 
mediately above  the  earth  is  not  full  of  the 
awful  emanations  of  death.  Astral  forms  go 
there  from  the  more  terrible  region,  but  in 
order  to  go  they  must  have  themselves  broken 
away  from  the  immediate  scene  of  their  worst 
suffering. 

It  is  easier  to  protect  oneself  from  sad 
thought-forms  than  from  the  distracted  astral 
entities  and  the  "boiling"  astral  matter  that 
lie  above  those  battlefields. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    123 

Why,  even  the  field  of  Waterloo  before  this 
war  was  not  a  pleasant  place  to  spend  the 
night.  After  a  lapse  of  time  you  may  briefly 
visit  the  scenes  of  these  recent  battles,  for  the 
sake  of  the  practical  experience;  but  do  not 
go  there  just  yet.  The  best  place  in  Europe 
for  a  long  period  will  be  the  mountains  of 
Switzerland.  You  should  spend  much  time 
there. 

Do  you  remember  telling  me  how,  when  a 
child,  you  used  to  see  the  forms  of  American 
Indians  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys  of  your 
native  State?  They  were  those  who  many 
years  before  had  walked  those  hills  and  valleys 
in  the  sunlight,  and  who  were  still  held  in  the 
tenuous  matter  above  that  region.  The  eyes 
of  childhood  are  sometimes  very  clear.  Above 
those  battlefields  of  Europe  the  sensitive  eye 
may  see  for  many  years  the  forms  of  those 
who  will  not  be  able  to  make  their  escape.  And 
I  do  not  mean  akashic  records.  War  is  hell, 
and  the  hell  does  not  end  with  the  signing  of 
peace  papers. 

That  is  one  reason  why  we  want  you,  and 
those  others  who  believe  in  brotherhood,  to 
carry  that  spirit  of  brotherhood  among  the  na- 


124    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

tions  that  have  been  at  war.  You  have  no  con- 
ception of  the  power  of  a  quiet  faith  in  a  great 
and  true  idea.  The  man  who  really  loves  his 
fellows  has  a  wider  influence  than  his  own  im- 
mediate circle  of  friends.  The  atmosphere 
around  him  is  permeated  with  that  brotherly 
love,  and  sensitive  souls  can  feel  it. 

Some  day  sail  up  the  Rhine  with  that  senti- 
ment in  your  heart. 

April  12. 


LETTER  XXI 

A  SOUL  IN  PUKGATOBY 

DARE  I  talk  to  you  of  the  purgatory  to 
which  the  rage  of  battle  conducts  so 
many  souls  that  only  a  little  while  be- 
fore walked  the  earth  as  men,  and  went  their 
daily  round  from  house  to  office,  loving  their 
wives  and  children  and  exchanging  worldly 
commonplaces  in  the  intervals  of  work,  all  un- 
mindful that  they  were  hourly  drifting  toward 
the  Great  Event?  Yes,  I  dare. 

We  will  follow  one  soul  that  I  myself  fol- 
lowed. His  story  I  can  reconstruct  from 
memory,  for  every  act  of  it  is  stamped  upon 
my  mind.  No,  I  do  not  need  brain-cells  to 
remember  with.  Neither  will  you — when  you 
have  escaped  the  prison  of  your  brain-cells. 

The  man  was  an  officer  in  an  English  regi- 
ment and  he  was  a  bachelor.  Outwardly  he 
was  much  like  other  men,  but  his  consciousness 
was  different.  He  lived  in  a  world  of  his  own, 
for  he  was  a  reader  and  a  thinker.  He  was 


126    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

not  a  very  good  man.  Not  all  Englishmen  are 
good  even  now  when  England  is  at  war,  you 
who  bristle  at  any  criticism  of  your  beloved 
maternal  island — you  who  write  for  me! 

This  man  was  not  very  good  because  there 
was  so  little  love  in  his  heart.  He  was  not  in- 
capable of  love,  yet  he  was  unable  to  awaken 
love  in  others,  and  so  was  soul-starved.  But 
sometimes  he  was  conscious  of  a  great  yearn- 
ing, and  when  the  yearning  came  he  was  im- 
patient, and  took  a  drink,  or  cursed  his  ser- 
vant, or  both.  Sometimes  when  he  was  most 
impatient  with  the  world  and  with  himself,  he 
went  on  a  "spree." 

The  war  began. 

His  natural  impatience  found  something 
congenial  in  the  hurry  and  noise  of  the  expe- 
dition. He  was  glad  to  go. 

He  had  known  a  German  in  London  and  had 
disliked  him  thoroughly.  The  German  talked 
too  much,  and  his  loud  tones  jarred  on  the 
sensitive  ears  of  the  refined  officer.  As  he  led 
his  men  into  battle  he  thought  of  this  German. 
He  felt  that  he  was  battling  with  him  at  last 
face  to  face,  and  the  feeling  gave  him  a  thril] 
of  satisfaction. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    127 

Hate  had  become  an  almost  sensual  luxury. 
The  German  had  fascinated  by  his  blustering 
personality  a  woman  of  rather  coarse  type  to 
whom  the  officer  had  been  impatiently  at- 
tracted. He  hated  himself  for  the  attraction, 
and  he  hated  the  German  for  frustrating  it. 
We  always  hate  those  who  frustrate  the  emo- 
tions we  hate. 

The  officer  was  killed  by  a  German  bullet, 
in  the  early  days  of  the  war.  Where?  Oh,  no 
matter  where!  There  are  those  who  might 
recognize  the  man,  and  I  am  not  a  betrayer 
of  unwilling  confidences.  When  I  listen  at 
the  keyhole  of  life  I  never  report  too  much  of 
what  I  hear.  I  use  my  discretion. 

I  shall  call  this  man  my  friend,  for  I  was  so 
much  his  friend  that  I  have  a  right  to  claim 
him. 

Before  the  battle  in  which  my  friend  met 
death  I  had  lingered  near  him,  with  a  desire 
to  soften  the  hard  feelings  in  his  heart.  Those 
feelings  are  not  usual  among  the  soldiers  of  a 
particular  section  of  the  northern  battle-line. 
To  them  fighting  is  a  sort  of  glorified  sport — 
or  it  was  so  last  September. 


128    WAK  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

My  friend  was  an  exception,  and  that  is  why 
I  choose  to  write  about  him,  that  my  assertion 
of  his  exceptional  qualities  may  keep  the 
reader  from  shuddering  too  much.  I  should 
not  like  my  readers  to  feel  that  their  friends 
went  through  a  similar  experience.  You  who 
hang  above  this  page,  my  friend  was  not  your 
friend.  The  experiences  of  your  friends  were 
less  terrible.  They  were  all  better  men  than  he, 
because  you  loved  them,  and  this  man  was  not 
good  because  he  was  not  loved  enough. 

He  met  death  by  a  rifle  bullet.  Then  all 
became  dark  before  him,  and  he  was  uncon- 
scious for  a  time. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  noise  of  a  burst- 
ing shell. 

"The  battle  has  begun,"  he  thought.  "Damn 
that  man!  He  should  have  awakened  me  at 
dawn." 

He  was  among  the  men  of  his  regiment. 
They  seemed  larger  than  usual,  and  blurred 
in  outline.  He  rubbed  his  eyes. 

"Hell  and  damnation!  Who  have  they  put 
in  my  place?"  For  he  saw  a  minor  officer  who 
commanded  where  he  had  commanded 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    129 

He  turned  away,  then  came  back  again.  He 
would  demand  to  know!  He  started  toward 
the  place  where  his  superior  officer  should  have 
been,  some  distance  away,  and  found  himself 
instantly  there. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  me?"  he  thought. 
"Have  I  lost  my  mind?" 

He  saluted  the  officer,  who  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  him. 

"Am  I  asleep?"  he  wondered. 

He  went  up  to  a  soldier  who  was  loading  a 
rifle  and  touched  him  on  the  arm.  The  sol- 
dier also  paid  no  attention.  He  gripped  the 
man's  arm.  Still  he  paid  no  attention,  but 
raised  his  rifle  and  fired. 

My  friend  went  toward  two  men  who  were 
talking  together. 

"Poor  old  !"  he  heard  one  of  them 

say.  "Shot  through  the  heart !  He  was  a  good 
officer,  though  a  surly  fellow.  I'm  sorry  he's 
dead." 

The  they  spoke  of  was  himself. 

"Shot  through  the  heart— a  good  officer — a 
surly  fellow — dead!" 

He  knew.  Knowledge  sometimes  comes 
more  slowly.  He  was  "dead." 


130    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Just  my  luck!"  was  his  instinctive  thought. 

Another  shell  burst  behind  him  with  a  shat- 
tering report. 

Suddenly  he  saw  before  him  a  face  that  riv- 
etted  his  attention.  It  was  a  malignant,  an 
insolent  face.  Then  it  changed  into  the  face 
of  his  enemy,  the  German  back  in  England 
whom  he  hated. 

"So  it's  you,  is  it?"  he  asked. 

The  spectre  made  no  answer,  but  changed 
its  shape  again.  This  time  it  was  like  the 
woman  whom  my  friend  had  hated  himself  for 
liking. 

"You,  too!"  he  said,  impatiently. 

Again  the  spectre  changed  countenance.  It 
was  like  a  servant  whom  my  friend  had  cursed 
once  too  often,  and  who  had  left  him  the  year 
before. 

"Are  you,  too,  dead?"  he  asked;  but  the  face 
before  him  had  now  resumed  its  original  ap- 
pearance. It  was  merely  a  malignant,  inso- 
lent face,  resembling  nobody  in  particular. 

"What  are  you,  anyway?"  my  friend  de- 
manded ;  but  still  there  was  no  answer. 

The  eye  of  the  spectre  interested  him — the 
left  eye.  As  he  gazed  at  it,  the  eye  gradually 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    131 

enlarged  until  it  seemed  the  size  of  a  target 
in  a  shooting-gallery.  The  iris,  of  a  peculiar 
greenish-blue,  was  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
eye,  so  that  the  white  showed  all  round.  The 
black  pupil  stared  at  him  with  its  concentrated 
malice — a  pupil  large  as  a  saucer. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  demanded  my 
friend ;  but  the  eye  still  made  no  answer. 

Then  it  vanished. 

A  troop  of  hateful  shades  came  in  its  place, 
ugly  shades,  some  human,  some  sub-human. 
Another  shell  burst  nearby,  and  the  shades  be- 
gan to  dance.  They  caught  at  him  and  whirled 
him  around  with  them,  around  and  around 
until  he  was  dizzy.  Then  suddenly  they 
stopped,  and  each  and  all  of  them  changed  into 
the  form  of  the  German  back  in  England 
whom  my  friend  had  hated.  Then  another 
group  of  mad  beings  mingled  with  them.  They 
also  changed  suddenly — there  were  a  dozen 
duplicates  of  the  woman  whom  my  friend  had 
hated  himself  for  liking,  and  they  and  the 
duplicates  of  his  enemy  caught  one  another's 
hands  and  kissed  each  other. 

Sick,  revolted,  my  friend  wished  himself 
away,  and  he  was  away.  He  was  over  among 


132    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

the  soldiers  of  the  German  army  across  the 
plain.  He  heard  the  sounds  of  the  language 
he  disliked. 

"What  the  devil!"  he  thought,  and  the  devil 
stood  before  him,  hoofs,  horns  and  tail  com- 
plete. 

"Hadn't  thought  of  me  before,  had  you?" 
sneered  the  evil  being. 

My  friend  was  hurt  and  bewildered  by  the 
appearance,  for  it  looked,  with  all  its  unlovely 
accessories,  so  like  himself. 

"Will  you,  too,  change  form  in  a  moment?" 
he  asked. 

"Oh,  no!  I  change  slowly.  I  only  change 
as  you  change." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  only  can  change  me." 

"Change,  then!"  said  my  friend.  But  the 
demon  remained  as  before. 

"Change!"  repeated  my  friend;  but  still  the 
figure  before  him  changed  not  at  all. 

"Then  you  lied  when  you  said  I  could  change 
you!" 

"I  said  that  I  change  slowly." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  only  change  as  you  change." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    133 

"And  I  have  not  changed,  then?" 

"It  is  my  business  to  keep  you  from  chang- 
ing." 

In  company  with  his  devil  my  friend  now 
went  through  scenes  which  I  refrain  from  de- 
scribing, Goethe  in  the  Walpurgis  Night  hav- 
ing done  it  so  well  before  me.  Reckless,  des- 
perate, he  followed  his  leader  until  he  was 
weary  and  exhausted.  Days,  weeks  passed 
away,  like  a  nightmare. 

"Can  I  never  get  rid  of  you?"  he  asked  his 
companion. 

"Yes,  you  can  get  rid  of  me." 

"How?" 

"By  getting  rid  of  yourself." 

"That's  easier  said  than  done." 

"Yes,  that's  easier  said  than  done." 

Often  they  found  themselves  on  the  battle- 
field in  the  fighting  line,  or  at  the  mess  of  the 
soldiers.  The  smell  of  the  coffee  and  of  cook- 
ing meats  brought  temporary  satisfaction  to 
my  friend.  He  tried  to  drink  from  brandy 
flasks  tilted  to  the  mouths  of  men  who  could 
not  see  him  or  protest;  he  steeped  himself  in 
hungers  and  despairs.  His  companions  were 
always  changing  themselves  into  the  forms  of 


134    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

the  man  he  hated  and  the  woman  he  loved.  He 
witnessed  their  coarse  love-making.  Some- 
times the  simulacrum  of  the  woman  turned  to 
him  with  a  friendly  word.  He  cursed  her,  but 
clung  to  her  hand.  But  always  she  vanished 
when  his  mouth  yearned  to  hers. 

Sometimes  in  a  great  battle  the  rage  of  war 
awoke  in  him.  He  hurled  himself  at  the  men 
of  the  opposing  army,  as  if  he  would  take  re- 
venge upon  them  for  all  he  was  suffering.  He  . 
struggled  to  tear  the  rifles  from  their  hands, 
and  when  one  of  them  passed  out  of  the  body 
he  tried  to  awake  him  from  the  darkness  and 
the  sleep  into  which  he  was  sinking;  but  never 
could  he  succeed  in  doing  this.  Never  could 
he  succeed  in  doing  anything.  His  very  ex- 
istence was  failure  and  futility  and  discourage- 
ment. 

One  day  I  came  to  him  and  touched  him  on 
the  forehead. 

"You  are  not  like  these  others,"  he  said, 
dully.  "Where  do  you  come  from?" 

"I  came  from  a  distance,"  I  said.  "Would 
you  like  to  go  with  me?" 

"Anywhere  away  from  here,"  he  assented. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    135 

"Do  you  want  to  be  alone?" 

"No.    It  is  worst  when  I  am  alone." 

"The  worst  is  over/'  I  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  you  have  exhausted  for  the 
time  the  springs  of  your  lower  desires.  You 
are  weary  and  disgusted  with  the  life  you  have 
led  since  you  escaped  from  your  body." 

"That  is  a  strange  expression — escaped!  It 
is  only  now  that  I  long  to  escape." 

"And  it  is  I  who  will  help  you  to  escape  from 
another  layer  of  your  prison,  another  skin  of 
the  onion  that  shuts  you  in." 

"And  why  do  you  do  this?" 

"To  spare  you  unnecessary  fumbling  to 
break'  the  skin,"  I  said.  "Would  you  like  to 
go  to  sleep?" 

"I  should  like  to  rest  a  little." 

While  he  slept  I  helped  to  loosen  him 
further,  and  when  he  awoke  into  another  and 
a  freer  world  I  was  still  with  him. 

"What  would  you  like  to  see?"  I  asked. 

"Something  beautiful,"  he  answered,  "some- 
thing beautiful  and  pure." 

"Would  you  care  to  witness  a  dance  of 
elves?"  I  asked,  smiling. 


136    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"A  dance  of  elves?  Are  there  really  such 
things?" 

"The  universe  contains  innumerable  forms 
of  life  and  consciousness,"  I  said.  "And  you 
who  believe  in  devils  from  experience  can 
surely  believe  in  elves." 

They  came  toward  us  as  I  spoke,  lithe,  tenu- 
ous forms,  dancing  with  joy  across  the  flowery 
spaces  of  the  Elysian  Fields.  They  swayed 
and  circled  around  us,  those  beings  pure  as 
the  air  in  which  they  moved,  light  as  the  happi- 
ness they  exhaled,  enduring  as  hope  and  love- 
lier than  mortal  dreams. 

The  shadows  had  all  gone  from  my  friend's 
face,  and  he  too  seemed  to  taste  joy,  he  too 
was  light  as  air,  and  pure.  He  joined  their 
dance  and  circled  with  them  around  me. 

I  tell  you  in  a  burst  of  confidence  that  I  also 
have  danced  with  elves.  This  companion  and 
friend  of  the  Beautiful  Being  has  swum  in 
the  sea  of  universal  life  and  floated  on  the 
wings  of  irresponsibility.  He  who  knows  too 
much  of  the  world's  sorrow  must  sometimes 
lighten  the  load  by  knowing  nothing  but  joy. 

When  the  sylphs  had  gone  to  their  more  in- 
violable retreat,  another  shape  came  toward  us. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    137 

"What  would  you  like  to  see  now?"  I  asked 
him. 

"Can  I  see  a  person  who  still  lives  in  Eng- 
land?" he  asked,  half  shyly,  yet  with  the  win- 
ning confidence  of  souls  who  trust  their  own 
desires — the  higher  wisdom  which  comes  with 
the  purification  of  desire. 

"Perhaps,"  I  said. 

The  form  that  came  toward  us  was  unfamil- 
iar to  me,  but  my  friend  recognized  and  wel- 
comed it.  A  woman  of  intense  and  vital  per- 
sonality, yet  with  that  purity  of  atmosphere 
without  which  no  communion  is  possible  in  the 
region  where  we  then  were,  was  standing  be- 
side my  friend. 

"Let  us  sit  together  a  little,"  I  said.  "It  will 
seem  more  homelike." 

The  two  beside  me  seemed  happy  in  each 
other's  presence.  "Sisterly-sweet  hand  in 
hand,"  they  sat  together;  and  though  I  knew 
that  one  of  them  was  only  the  simulacrum  of 
a  living  woman,  yet  she  also  seemed  real  to 
me  for  the  moment,  for  the  kind  sentiments  of 
the  heart  are  real,  and  in  the  region  to  which 
I  had  conducted  my  friend  all  sentiments  are 
kind.  No  enemies  are  found  there,  and  the 


138    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

woman  he  liked  also  liked  him,  or  she  could 
not  have  been  there. 

Soon  I  left  them  in  each  other's  company 
and  went  back  to  the  labors  of  the  battlefield; 
for  there  were  others  who  needed  me,  and  my 
friend  was  safe  for  the  time. 

After  a  while  I  shall  help  him  onward  to 
an  experience  still  less  restricted.  We  take 
an  interest  in  those  whom  we  have  helped,  and 
wish  to  help  them  further. 

Why  did  I  choose  this  man  for  my  friendly 
ministrations,  you  are  wondering;  for  as  I  de- 
scribed him  in  the  beginning  of  this  letter  he 
was  not  an  attractive  character. 

I  tell  you  a  little  secret:  It  was  because  he 
was  unattractive  that  I  chose  him.  No  one 
had  ever  loved  him  enough,  and  so  he  needed 
help  more  than  others.  Those  who  are  loved 
are  already  helped  by  that  love.  As  the  Beau- 
tiful Being  says,  "Do  you  get  my  meaning, 
daughter  of  earth?" 

Just  now  I  live  to  serve  mankind  through 
the  horrors  of  this  war.  Serve  also  by  loving 
those  who  least  attract  your  love.  So  shall 
you  learn  the  way  to  the  Path  where  walk  the 
Masters  of  Compassion. 

April  14. 


LETTER  XXII 

PEACE  PROPAGANDA 

WERE  you  shocked  and  grieved  by 
what  I  told  you  of  the  futile  struggle 
in  that  intermediate  world  between 
the  bondage  of  dense  matter  and  the  freedom 
of  purer  regions?  It  is  nothing  to  grieve 
about;  it  is  nothing  but  the  necessary  transi- 
tion stage.  It  lasts  but  a  little  while,  a  few 
days,  a  few  years — what  matter,  in  the  end- 
less leisure  of  eternity?  You  yourself  have 
passed  through  it  many  times.  All  pass 
through  it  in  going  out  to  a  freer  life,  though 
all  do  not  suffer  it  consciously  and  lingeringly 
as  my  friend  did.  It  is  a  nightmare,  yes ;  but 
no  nightmare  lasts  forever.  Think  of  the  joy 
and  the  freedom  beyond !  They  are  worth  the 
boatman's  penny. 

It  is  true  that  I  have  not  told  you  the  most 
terrible  things  that  are  possible  in  this  transi- 
tion, have  not  told  you  the  most  terrible  things 
that  I  have  seen  in  my  journeys  round  the 
battlefields.  Those  unwritten  chapters  are 


140    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

not  necessary  for  the  book  which  I  dictate  to 
teach  brotherhood  in  place  of  separation,  peace 
in  place  of  war. 

Would  you  know  how  you  may  do  some- 
thing to  shorten  this  war,  to  hasten  the  coin- 
ing of  peace?  Then  listen! 

You  can  personally  hasten  the  coming  of 
peace!  Is  the  idea  startling?  When  I  say 
"you,"  I  mean  others,  too,  all  those  who  are 
weary  of  war,  and  of  hate,  the  mother  of  war. 

Has  anyone  injured  you  in  the  struggle  of 
life? — for  life  is  a  kind  of  war. 

Go  out  in  thought  to  those  whose  desires 
have  clashed  with  your  desires,  those  who  have 
hurt  you  or  hated  you.  Go  to  them  one  by 
one — not  several  at  a  time  in  this  exercise,  and 
one  by  one  try  to  understand  them.  See  your- 
self with  their  eyes,  feel  toward  yourself  with 
their  hearts.  If  they  still  hate  you,  you  may 
hate  yourself  at  first  in  sympathy  with  them. 
But  remaining  there  in  sympathy  with  them, 
you  will  gradually  feel  their  hard  thoughts  of 
you  change,  gradually  begin  to  be  friends  with 
yourself  through  them. 

This  I  am  advising  you  to  do  is  not  a  form 
of  "black  magic,"  because  the  object  is  unself- 
ish. You  are  making  a  beginning  toward 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    141 

softening  the  enmities  of  the  world.  But  I 
warn  you  against  using  this  practice  to  win 
the  regard  of  anyone  whom  you  love  selfishly 
or  with  passion,  because  the  reaction  would 
bring  about  a  very  undesirable  condition  of 
disharmony. 

When  you  have  thus  understood  and  for- 
given all  your  personal  enemies,  enter  the  souls 
of  the  warring  nations.  Understand  them  also 
by  sympathy,  and  soften  their  hearts.  Though 
this  is  a  much  easier  thing  to  attempt  than  the 
other,  the  results  may  seem  incommensurable 
with  the  effort.  But,  small  and  great,  you  are 
all  part  of  the  Whole. 

And  this  brings  me  to  the  idea  of  race 
spirits,  race  entities,  for  every  race  has  its 
guardian  being — a  composite  being,  yet  self- 
conscious  as  separate,  in  a  way  you  could 
hardly  understand. 

Have  you  not  noticed  the  effect  on  yourself 
of  passing  from  country  to  country?  Have 
your  feelings — has  your  consciousness  not 
changed  almost  at  the  frontier?  Do  you  re- 
member the  shock  you  once  had  on  setting  foot 
for  the  first  time  in  a  certain  foreign  land? 

The  race  spirits  seem  no  larger  to  themselves 
and  among  themselves  than  you  humans  do 


142    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

among  your  friends  and  acquaintances.  Size 
is  relative.  Heretofore  I  have  spoken  of  the 
races  as  organs  in  the  body  of  humanity.  In 
speaking  of  them  now  as  separate  beings  I 
am  not  contradicting  myself.  What  reason 
have  you  for  assuming  that  the  organs  of  your 
body  may  not  each  be  animated  by  a  more  or 
less  separate  consciousness?  Your  cells  exist 
in  your  organs,  your  organs  exist  in  your 
body,  you  exist  in  your  race,  your  race  exists 
in  the  body  of  humanity  on  earth,  the  entity 
of  the  earth  exists  in  the  democracy  of  planet- 
ary spirits  in  the  solar  system,  the  solar  sys- 
tem exists  as  one  in  the  company  of  its  fellows 
in  the  greater  democracy  of  the  Cosmos. 

A  small  blood-clot  on  the  brain  could  seri- 
ously hamper  the  working  of  your  cosmos. 

So  you  see  there  is  nothing  preposterous  in 
my  saying  that  you  can  hasten  infinitesimatty 
the  peace  between  the  race  spirits  by  forgiving 
and  making  peace  with  your  personal  enemies, 
especially  if  they  belong  to  races  on  the  other 
side  of  this  war. 

The  small  is  not  so  unimportant  and  the 
great  is  not  so  important  as  you  have  the  habit 
of  supposing.  Yes,  you  personally — and  all 
of  you — can  hasten  the  coming  of  peace. 

April  16. 


LETTER  XXIII 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  DESIRE 

I  HAVE  written  about  the  hunger  and 
thirst  of  disembodied  men  in  the  astral 
world,  and  I  have  written  about  the  evil 
astral  beings  who  brought  about  this  war  to 
satisfy  their  malice.  They  too  are  hungry 
beings  and  the  war  has  given  them  food.  Do 
you  know  what  they  live  on?  They  may  live 
long  on  blood  and  the  exhalations  of  slaughter. 
I  have  seen  them  by  myriads  hovering  over  a 
battlefield,  gorging  themselves  on  the  blood 
that  dripped  from  the  wounds  of  suffering  men 
and  from  dead  men. 

The  leaving  of  the  dead  unburied  has  also 
satisfied  their  hunger.  Vampire  entities  came 
up  from  Hungary  and  from  other  countries 
and  fed  on  the  living.  The  awful  weariness  of 
war  opened  a  door  through  which  they  might 
pasis  to  the  life  forces  they  craved. 

"Blood  is  a  peculiar  fluid,"  as  Goethe  said. 
The  life  of  an  evil  entity  may  be  renewed  for 


144    WAR,  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

another  long  period  of  existence  if  he  can  have 
blood  enough. 

If  you  stop  eating  the  carcases  of  dead  ani- 
mals, you  will  cease  to  feed  certain  evil  entities 
in  yourselves.  It  is  not  merely  for  reasons  of 
sentiment  that  the  pupils  of  the  great  Masters 
are  advised  to  refrain  from  animal  food.  You 
are  told  that  meat-eating  feeds  the  passional 
nature.  What  is  the  passional  nature  but  the 
hungry  nature  that  longs  to  feed  on  something 
not  itself?  So  long  as  you  eat  meat  habitually 
you  will  never  be  quite  free  from  the  influence 
of  entities  who  live  on  the  blood  and  the 
other  properties  of  meat.  Eat  purely,  and  by 
and  by  you  will  find  yourselves  thinking  purely 
and  desiring  purely. 

I  do  not  tell  you  to  kill  out  all  desire  this  af- 
ternoon, for  desire  is  the  dynamics  with  which 
you  work  for  even  the  ideal ;  but  kill  out  desire 
for  blood  and  for  the  flesh  of  dead  animals,  and 
all  sorts  cf  other  desires  which  serve  no  neces- 
sary purpose  in  your  evolution  will  expire. 

A  lot  of  nonsense  is  talked  about  desire.  You 
desire  to  develop  spiritually,  you  desire  to  do 
the  work  of  the  Masters;  you  are  not  merely 
led  along  like  a  lamb  to  do  the  work  of  the 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    145 

Masters.  There  is  desire  and  desire.  If  it 
seems  "desirable"  that  you  shorten  the  road  to 
conscious  union  with  the  All,  you  will  desire 
that  union  probably ;  you  are  not  likely  to  drift 
into  it. 

I  am  not  talking  about  the  violent  desires  of 
ambition.  You  need  not  be  ambitious  for  oc- 
cult development.  In  fact,  if  you  are  too  am- 
bitious for  occult  development  you  will  be  in 
danger  of  becoming  a  black  magician.  But 
you  can  quietly  "desire"  even  union  with  God. 

All  action  on  this  plane  springs  from  desire 
of  some  sort,  and  it  has  been  said  that  desire 
and  will  are  the  same.  Perhaps  they  are.  It 
has  also  been  said  that  desire  relates  to  the 
temporary,  and  that  will  is  some  kind  of  supe- 
rior motive  force;  but  I  should  be  inclined  to 
say  that  will  in  its  more  dignified  phases  was 
merely  desire  for  a  higher  thing — that  is,  if  I 
wanted  to  separate  the  two. 

Music  may  be  sublime  and  music  may  be  rag- 
time; it  is  still  music.  The  force  of  the  wind 
may  fan  the  flame  that  burns  your  house,  or  it 
may  fill  the  sails  of  the  boat  that  takes  you 
across  the  sea  to  your  soul's  desire.  It  is  still 
the  same  wind. 


146    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

You  may  even  desire  to  desire  the  higher 
things.  You  may  will  to  will  with  the  Law  in- 
stead of  against  it.  Is  that  not  desire,  too? 

In  advising  you  not  to  feed  by  blood  sacri- 
fices the  elemental  forces  in  yourself  which 
crave  that  impure  food,  I  am  not  inviting  you 
to  kill  out  desire.  You  will  have  to  desire  to 
purify  your  system  from  the  material  of  dead 
animals  before  you  will  wilfully  cease  to  feed 
on  them.  The  evil  in  you,  the  hungry  fiery 
selfish  nature,  sucks  up  the  blood  that  passes 
your  lips  somewhat  as  the  evil  beings  above 
the  battlefields  suck  up  the  blood  that  flows 
from  the  wounds  of  the  fallen.  If  you  have 
no  further  use  for  these  creatures,  you  can 
cease  to  feed  them  with  blood. 

You  will  never  kill  out  your  emotional  na- 
ture by  ceasing  to  eat  meat.  You  will  merely 
purify  it.  The  whole  soul-world  is  a  world  of 
emotion,  and  the  pure  beings  of  the  elements 
are  very  emotional,  but  they  do  not  feed  on 
blood. 

Yes,  mind  is  higher  than  emotion,  it  is  be- 
yond emotion.  You  can  have  mind  without 
emotion,  and  you  can  have  emotion  without 
mind  to  any  great  degree,  as  in  the  animals; 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    147 

but  man  is  made  of  both.  He  is  dependent  on 
his  middle  register,  his  soul-desire  nature,  in 
order  to  work  in  the  soul  world  as  a  growing 
entity  there.  When  you  reach  the  highest 
heaven  you  will  be  living  in  thought  with  only 
so  much  of  the  desire  nature  as  you  have  raised 
with  you  by  memory  and  assimilation.  You 
can  raise  more  of  soul-dynamics  into  the  high- 
est region  if  you  do  not  clog  your  feet  on  the 
road  by  desire  for  bloody  food.  Leave  that  to 
the  demons  who  gorge  themselves  on  the  bat- 
tlefields. 

During  the  reign  of  brotherhood  which  I  am 
trying  to  help  in  bringing  about,  the  race  will 
subsist  on  a  pure  diet.  Even  now  there  is  a 
tendency  toward  the  elimination  of  dead  ani- 
mals from  the  dietary. 

The  desires  of  the  new  race  will  have  to  be 
purified,  their  emotions  raised  and  intensified. 
The  emotions  of  a  man  are  much  more  intense 
than  the  emotions  of  a  lion.  The  emotions  of 
a  god  are  cosmic. 

April  16. 


LETTER   XXIV 

THE  SCALES  OF  JUSTICE 

LEST  anyone  should  think  that  in  work- 
ing for  brotherhood  I  am  either  know- 
ingly or  inadvertently  striving  to  bring 
about  a  state  of  lax  acquiescence  in  the  wrongs 
committed  by  my  fellowmen,  by  my  brothers, 
I  want  to  talk  about  justice. 

As  one  who  has  been  a  so-called  Judge  in  a 
court  of  justice,  I  have  had  some  little  exper- 
ience in  the  practical  working  out  of  a  balance 
between  mercy  and  severity.  Justice  is  one 
of  the  gods  that  I  have  always  placed  high  in 
my  personal  pantheon,  and  never  in  handing 
down  a  decision  did  I,  through  weakness  or 
sentimentality,  hamper  the  right  of  the  good 
in  order  to  pander  to  the  wrong  of  evil.  I 
have  given  mild  judgments  when  most  good 
seemed  to  be  promised  that  way;  I  have  given 
severe  judgments  when  it  seemed  to  me  that 
evil  would  be  best  curbed  that  way. 

Much  nonsense  has  been  talked  and  written 
about  universal  brotherhood,  as  about  most  of 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    149 

the  other  ideals  of  mankind.  Universal  broth- 
erhood is  not  universal  acquiescence  in  evil;  it 
is  universal  acceptance  of  the  ideal  of  good. 
And  you  will  never  have  a  brotherhood  worthy 
of  the  name  until  you  raise,  not  lower,  the 
standard  of  justice. 

Justice  is  balance,  justice  is  equilibrium  be- 
tween forces,  justice  is  poise.  It  is  because  I 
hope  to  see  a  more  poised  humanity  that  I  am 
urging  men  to  concentrate  upon  love  instead 
of  upon  hate. 

Since  I  have  been  stationed  in  Europe  and 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  western 
battlefields,  I  have  helped  hundreds  of  souls 
to  help  themselves  through  the  terrible  astral 
conditions  into  which  a  sudden  and  premature 
dropping  of  their  physical  bodies  has  precipi- 
tated them ;  but  in  no  case  have  I  tried  to  up- 
set the  balance  between  cause  and  effect  by 
helping  a  soul  to  a  freedom  for  which  it  was 
not  prepared.  I  have  let  men  suffer  when  I 
could  have  shortened  their  suffering;  I  have  let 
many  souls  work  out  in  the  astral  world  the 
slow  battle  with  their  lower  desires,  because  I 
knew  that  if  they  were  plucked  from  the  tree 
of  pain  before  they  were  ripe,  they  would  have 


150    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

to  go  through  it  all  anyway  and  battle  harder 
in  another  life  with  those  very  forces  which 
now  by  their  suffering  they  were  severing  in 
the  region  where — from  the  very  limitation  of 
satisfactions — elementary  desires  are  more  eas- 
ily starved  out  than  on  the  earth. 

There  was  in  one  of  the  armies  a  very  cruel 
officer  who  was  hated  by  his  men.  He  came  out 
here  and  many  of  the  men  came  out  here,  and  I 
made  no  attempt  to  protect  him  from  their  re- 
proaches, because  he  needed  to  learn  that  in- 
justice deserves  reproach.  On  earth  their 
mouths  had  been  stopped  by  army  discipline, 
but  out  here  he  had  to  realize  how  much  he  had 
wronged  them.  He  could  never  have  realized 
it  in  any  other  way.  Had  I  preached  to  him 
he  would  have  told  me  to  mind  my  own  busi- 
ness. The  law  of  justice  does  not  preach.  It 
demonstrates.  He  had  to  endure  the  demon- 
stration of  his  own  injustice  through  the  dark 
and  reproachful  shadows  by  which  he  was  long 
surrounded.  And  I  may  say  in  passing  that 
he  is  still  surrounded  by  them.  I  have  made 
no  effort  to  help  him.  Perhaps  I  could  have 
done  so;  but  such  determined  opposition  on 
my  part  to  the  law  of  justice  might  have  let 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    151 

him  go  forward  into  his  own  selfish  heaven 
with  such  a  load  of  injustice  on  his  soul  that  in 
his  next  earthly  life  he  would  have  been  crushed 
by  it.  The  resentment  of  these  men  was  very 
deep,  and  while  I  might  have  softened  it  for 
their  sake — not  his — I  let  it  work  itself  out. 

Had  there  been  no  one  else  needing  my  help 
and  deserving  it  more,  I  might  have  spent  a 
long  time  with  these  men  and  yet  made  little 
impression.  I  did  exactly  as  I  should  have 
done  on  earth  had  such  a  case  come  before  me, 
and  I  believe  that  I  did  right. 

Whenever  I  see  a  soul  afflicted  by  the  unjust 
judgments  of  others  I  seek  to  set  the  balance 
true,  as  I  should  have  done  on  earth ;  but  I  am 
not  here  to  upset  the  law  of  cause  and  effect. 
When  I  can  help,  I  help ;  but  I  am  more  useful 
in  preventing  the  setting  up  of  evil  causes  than 
I  could  ever  be  in  deflecting  the  legitimate 
course  of  effects. 

When  I  urge  men  to  help  the  Masters  in 
holding  back  the  awful  karma  of  Germany,  I 
am  not  talking  sentimentally.  I  am  talking 
as  a  just  judge.  The  German  people  have 
been  deceived  by  their  leaders  and  have  fol- 
lowed blindly  a  course  they  have  not  under- 


152    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

stood.  Collectively  they  are  responsible  to  the 
other  races,  but  individually  they  are  not  re- 
sponsible in  the  same  degree;  for  they  have 
been  themselves  deceived,  and  they  do  not  know 
that  their  cause  of  national  aggression  is  unjust 
and  of  satanic  origin. 

It  is  the  hope  of  those  Teachers  who  can 
watch  from  the  outside  and  above,  that  the  do- 
cile German  people  should  not  be  forever  hated 
by  the  world  because  the  arrogant  war-party 
has  hurled  them  at  their  neighbors.  I  am  not 
condoning  the  unlovely  traits  in  the  German 
character,  or  in  the  character  of  any  other  peo- 
ple ;  but  of  all  the  races  engaged  in  this  gigan- 
tic struggle,  the  German  race  knows  least 
about  the  causes  that  hurled  it  forward.  A 
spoon-fed  press  and  the  penalties  of  lese  ma- 
jeste  have  kept  them  from  knowing  anything 
which  could  have  made  them  less  flexible  in- 
struments in  the  hands  of  their  leaders. 

The  karma  of  those  whose  headstrong  and 
arrogant  policy  precipitated  this  war  is  an  in- 
dividual karma,  and  it  will  have  to  be  worked 
out  by  individual  suffering  and  so-called  pun- 
ishment ;  but  the  karma  of  the  great  mass  of  the 
German  people  is  a  race  karma.  They  have 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    153 

let  themselves  be  led  on  to  their  own  defeat. 
Think  how  the  very  law  of  reaction  will  throw 
the  light  of  popular  and  democratic  investiga- 
tion into  the  darkest  nooks  and  crannies  of  the 
German  nation  and  government  after  this  war. 
Those  who  have  been  deceived  to  their  hurt 
will  demand  to  be  deceived  no  more.  In  twenty 
years  the  life  of  the  German  government  will 
be  as  open  as  that  of  the  United  States.  The 
so-called  "muck-raker"  will  arise  with  a  lan- 
tern on  his  hat. 

Also  by  the  law  of  reaction  England  will  be 
shaken  out  of  her  sluggishness  that  has  filled 
her  shops  with  the  wares  of  other  countries  be- 
cause she  was  too  slack  to  make  her  own. 

By  that  same  law  a  demand  will  arise  for  an 
uncorrupt  political  machine  in  France.  One 
or  two  things  have  happened  in  France  which 
she  prefers  for  the  moment  to  keep  to  herself. 

The  great  shock  of  this  war  will  cause  each 
nation  to  examine  itself  more  closely,  to  look 
into  its  own  motives,  to  see  wherein  it  fails  to 
come  up  to  the  very  exigeant  standard  de- 
manded by  the  New  Time. 

Look  also  for  changes  in  Russia,  and  Aus- 
tria will  be  but  another  name  for  change. 


154    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Justice  will  advance  many  paces  by  reason 
of  the  great  injustice  of  this  war.  The  Law  of 
Opposites  again!  Most  things  can  be  ex- 
plained by  that  law. 

In  writing  about  the  reign  of  brotherhood 
which  I  hope  to  see  established  in  the  world,  I 
am  not  laboring  under  the  delusion  that  an  im- 
possible Utopia  is  about  to  be  ushered  in  with 
a  blare  of  trumpets.  I  am  not  recording  a 
prophecy  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  im- 
mediately at  hand.  The  human  race  is  not 
ready  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  will 
not  be  ready  for  a  long  time ;  but  if  one  person 
in  ten  can  be  made  to  realize  that  brotherhood 
is  an  ideal  to  be  striven  for,  they  can  leaven 
the  other  nine-tenths  and  make  the  loaf  of  hu- 
man society  much  lighter  and  more  palatable 
than  it  is  at  present.  The  loaf  will  not  become 
fruit-cake  all  at  once.  That  is  too  much  to  ex- 
pect of  the  next  race ;  but  if  you  can  carry  the 
memory  of  this  prophecy  through  a  sufficient 
number  of  births  and  deaths,  you  may  see  a 
very  sweet  loaf  come  from  the  planetary  oven 
when  the  second  race  following,  the  Seventh, 
is  brought  forth  into  the  light  of  the  sun. 

April  17. 


LETTER   XXV 

FOB,  LOVE'S  SAKE 

SO  serious  and  philosophical  have  been  my 
last  few  letters,  that  I  should  like  to  revel 
in  romance. 

Have  you  thought  of  the  hard  life  of  the  war- 
nurses  and  wondered  from  whence  they  gather 
the  strength  for  their  daily  and  nightly  labors? 
Love  is  the  source  of  the  almost  superhuman 
endurance  of  many  of  the  women  who  seem  to 
their  charges  like  angels  of  light  and  healing. 

One  nurse  whom  we  will  call  Mary,  for  she 
is  a  type  of  the  virgin-mother  of  hearts,  has 
gone  out  into  heaven  a  hundred  times  in  the 
souls  of  those  she  has  tended.  Will  that  love 
not  guard  her  on  earth  through  the  whole 
course  of  her  life  and  follow  her  also  into  the 
heaven  world  beyond?  Be  sure  it  will. 

Mary  is  neither  a  scholar  nor  a  poet.  You 
would  not  have  dreamed  of  inviting  her  to  a 
reception  had  her  path  ever  crossed  yours ;  but 
Mary  is  not  unfit  for  the  society  of  angels  and 


156    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

gods  would  not  scorn  to  have  her  in  their  com- 
pany. 

She  was  just  an  ordinary  nurse  before  she 
became  a  war-nurse,  and  before  the  white  fire 
of  love  touched  her  personality  and  burned  it 
up  as  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  her  country's 
need. 

She  was  a  very  pretty  nurse  and  in  her  hours 
of  leisure  once  wore  stylish  hats  and  revelled 
in  laces  and  furbelows ;  for  the  love  of  beauty 
and  daintiness  often  nests  in  a  heart  that  is 
capable  of  heroism. 

When  the  war  broke  out  Mary  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  a  soldier.  Mary  went  to  the 
front  and  he  also  went  to  the  front ;  but  neither 
of  them  knew  where  the  other  was  for  many, 
many  days. 

Every  man  who  was  brought  to  her  severely 
wounded  Mary  nursed  as  if  he  had  been  the 
absent  friend  of  her  heart,  and  many  a  life  she 
saved  by  her  tender  care  and  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  hope  which  radiated  from  her  as  fra- 
grance from  a  rose. 

"If  lie  should  be  wounded,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "some  of  the  girls  will  care  for  him  as  I 
care  for  these  men." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    157 

Mary  was  not  jealous  lest  another  should 
have  the  privilege  of  nursing  the  man  she  loved, 
and  lest  in  his  heart  should  blossom  the  flower 
of  thankfulness  for  another  than  herself. 
Mary  had  not  much  time  to  think  about  her- 
self;  her  thoughts  were  too  busy  with  others. 

It  may  have  been  because  she  was  not  jeal- 
ous nor  over-watchful  for  her  property  in  her 
lover,  that  when  he  was  wounded  he  was  really 
brought  to  the  hospital  where  she  served  so 
faithfully.  Of  course  he  was  given  to  Mary  to 
nurse — it  could  not  have  been  otherwise,  and 
he  was  very  seriously  wounded.  When  the 
operation  was  performed  by  which  the  doctors 
hoped  to  save  his  life,  it  was  Mary  who  stood 
by  and  assisted.  She  did  not  faint  nor  cry  out 
even  when  they  cut  his  broken  arm  away,  the 
arm  on  which  she  had  dreamed  she  might  lean 
for  the  rest  of  her  earthly  life.  Mary  was 
thinking  about  his  mother  and  was  glad  that 
she  was  not  there  to  see  what  she  herself  saw. 
During  many  of  the  hours  when  Mary  might 
have  slept,  she  was  writing  to  the  mother — 
writing  brave  letters  wherein  she  sought  to  veil 
the  fear  that  was  in  her  own  heart. 


158    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Tom — we  will  call  him  Tom  because  that 
was  not  his  name — Tom  had  never  been  able 
to  believe  in  any  life  beyond  the  earth  life, 
and  as  Mary  watched  his  strength  grow  less 
she  prayed  all  day  and  most  of  the  night  that 
something  might  happen  to  make  Torn  believe 
in  heaven  and  angels.  The  exigencies  of  war 
had  left  him  long  on  the  battlefield  after  the 
shell  had  shattered  his  right  arm,  and  his  wound 
had  been  infected  before  the  operation  by  which 
the  doctors  sought  to  save  him  for  England 
and  for  Mary. 

Tom  knew  that  he  might  have  to"  leave  the 
world.  Mary  would  not  keep  the  overwhelm- 
ing possibility  from  him,  though  she  still  kept 
it  from  his  mother;  for  she  hoped  that  in  the 
hours  or  days  which  might  be  all  that  remained 
for  him  in  the  sunshine  of  the  upper  world 
something  might  happen,  some  miracle  of 
thought  or  of  love,  which  should  open  his  eyes 
to  what  she  called  the  Truth. 

Each  day  I  spent  a  little  time  in  the  long 
white  room  in  which  Tom  lay;  but  even  if  he 
could  have  seen  me,  I  might  not  have  been 
much  comfort  to  him,  and  I  cannot  speak  to 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    159 

any  ears  except  those  trained  to  listen  for  un- 
usual sounds. 

I  sympathized  with  Mary.  Having  con- 
vinced so  many  souls  of  the  truth  of  immor- 
tality through  a  former  writing  of  mine,  I 
wanted  to  convince  one  more — for  Mary's 
sake;  because  I  knew  that  if  Tom  should  go 
out  of  life  firmly  believing  that  death  was  the 
end  of  him,  it  might  really  be  the  end  of  him 
for  a  long  time. 

In  my  perplexity  I  sought  the  Beautiful  Be- 
ing for  advice.  That  angel's  knowledge  com- 
pared to  mine  is  like  an  arc-light  beside  a  tal- 
low dip. 

Together  we  went  back  to  the  hospital  where 
Mary  sat  talking  with  Tom  about  the  future 
life,  about  God  and  Christ  and  angels.  She 
had  many  soldiers  under  her  charge;  but  the 
other  nurses  worked  a  little  harder  to  give  her 
more  time  with  Tom,  for  all  the  world  loves  a 
lover — especially  in  the  horrors  of  war-time. 

"It  isn't  that  I  do  not  want  to  believe,"  he 
was  saying  to  Mary,  "it's  that  I  just  can't.  If 
I  could  see  with  my  own  eyes  an  angel,  or 
someone  that  I  knew  was  dead,  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent. But  how  could  I  see  such  a  thing?" 


160    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

The  Beautiful  Being  drew  nearer,  smiling, 
and  waved  its  gauzy  veil  before  the  eyes  of  the 
dying  man ;  but  he  could  not  see. 

The  Beautiful  Being  wove  a  glamor  of  light 
around  him,  and  sang  as  only  angels  can ;  but 
Tom  could  still  neither  see  nor  hear. 

"I  think  you  will  have  to  'materialize'/'  the 
Beautiful  Being  said  to  me,  with  a  whimsical 
smile.  "Those  eyes  are  stopped  with  matter, 
and  cannot  see  anything  finer  than  matter." 

I  was  not  attracted  by  the  suggestion,  but 
my  incomprehensible  friend  followed  it  up. 

"In  that  bed  yonder,"  it  said,  "is  one  of  those 
mortals  who  are  called  natural  mediums,  nat- 
ural materializing  mediums,  because  their  ten- 
uous bodies  are  so  loosely  held  by  the  physical 
that  they  are  easily  detached  and  borrowed 
from.  Now  materialize  yourself  and  let  Tom 
see  something  which  he  will  take  for  an  angel." 

"I  am  no  angel,"  I  said,  "and  the  eyes  of  a 
dying  atheist  would  never  mistake  me  for  one." 

"Try  it,  and  see,"  said  the  Beautiful  Being, 
pointing  to  a  man  in  a  neighboring  bed,  who 
was  the  "medium"  in  question. 

I  looked  at  the  man  and  read  around  him  the 
story  of  his  life.  He  was  a  coarse  fellow,  a 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    161 

saloon-keeper,  and  another  familiar  compound- 
word  would  have  fitted  him  like  a  glove. 

"Clothe  myself  in  that  man's  etheric  body!" 
I  said  in  disgust.  "I  would  not  touch  him  with 
a  ten-foot  pole!" 

"How  dainty-fingered  you  are!"  said  the 
Beautiful  Being.  "Did  I  not  know  you  so 
well,  I  could  almost  believe  you  self-righteous." 

"Call  me  what  you  like/'  I  replied,  "but  I 
will  not  do  phenomena  with  that  body." 

The  Beautiful  Being  laughed. 

"It  would  be  so  easy,"  it  said,  as  if  to  itself, 
"so  easy  and  so  convincing." 

The  angel  moved  toward  the  sleeping  sa- 
loon-keeper (I  had  almost  written  the  harsher 
compound),  and  gradually  from  his  side  there 
issued  a  vaporous  stream.  From  force  of 
earthly  habit  I  rubbed  my  eyes,  for  I  could 
not  believe  that  I  saw  aright.  The  pure  and 
exquisite  angel  was  clothing  itself  in  the  un- 
healthy emanations  of  the  sleeping  medium, 
and  in  the  space  of  twenty  ticks  of  the  clock  on 
the  wall  it  passed,  fully  materialized,  with  a 
speaking  throat,  to  the  foot  of  Tom's  bed. 

He  sat  up,  in  the  surprise  and  shock  of  the 
vision. 


162    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"What  are  you?"  he  asked,  hoarsely. 

"I  am  an  angel,"  said  the  Beautiful  Being, 
truly,  "and  I  have  come  to  prove  to  you  that 
miracles  can  happen,  and  to  assure  you  that 
when  you  leave  your  body  behind  on  the  mor- 
row I  shall  meet  you  on  the  other  side  of  the 
change." 

Mary  could  also  hear  and  see,  and  she  fell 
on  her  knees  with  a  little  sob  of  joy  and  won- 
der; for  she  had  never  seen  an  angel,  though 
her  faith  was  strong  enough  to  remove  moun- 
tains. 

"Then  it  is  really  true!"  Tom  gasped.  "I 
shall  not  die  with  my  body.  And  how  wonder- 
ful you  are!" 

For  the  Beautiful  Being  had  performed  the 
transformation  so  well  that  it  preserved  in  its 
borrowed  body  all  the  glory  and  amazing  love- 
liness of  that  form  which  charms  the  hosts  of 
the  unseen  world. 

"I  no  longer  doubt,"  said  Tom.  "I  believe, 
and  I  die  happy." 

"I  shall  not  forget  to  meet  you  when  you 
come  out,"  smiled  my  friend.  "Good-bye  now, 
for  a  little  while.  I  leave  you  with  Mary,  who 
is  also  a  kind  of  angel." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    163 

Slowly  the  borrowed  shape  retreated  tow- 
ards the  body  of  the  sleeping  saloon-keeper, 
and  after  a  moment  my  friend  stood  beside  me, 
clothed  in  its  own  pure  form;  but  on  its  shoul- 
ders and  feet  were  dark  stains  that  looked  like 
mud. 

"They  will  soon  blow  away  in  the  fresh  air 
outside,"  smiled  the  Beautiful  Being.  "And 
was  it  not  worth  while  to  convince  that  soul 
of  its  own  immortality?" 

We  passed  out  under  the  stars,  but  the  scene 
left  an  indelible  impression  on  my  conscious- 
ness. And  I  shall  often  remember  when  I  feel 
self-righteous,  how  the  purest  being  I  ever 
knew  wore  the  soiled  garment  of  a  vulgar  sa- 
loon-keeper, which  left  stains  on  its  dainty 
shoulders  and  its  shining  feet — how  it  dipped 
itself  for  the  first  time  in  the  filth  of  the  world, 
for  love's  sake. 

April  17. 


LETTER   XXVI 

A  MASTER  OF  MIND 

TO-NIGHT,  the  seventeenth  of  April, 
nineteen  hundred  and  fifteen,  there 
passed  along  the  battle  line  of  one  of 
the  nations  at  war  a  great  spiritual  being,  a 
being  whose  body  is  mind  and  who  works 
through  the  mind  alone. 

The  hour  had  come  when  a  certain  number 
of  those  who  had  fought  bravely  for  their  ill- 
starred  country  might  know  that  their  cause 
was  hopelessly  lost.  A  few  only  might  know 
to-night ;  but  their  knowledge  will  spread,  and 
with  spreading  knowledge  will  come  a  change 
of  spirit.  It  is  disheartening  to  fight  on  for  a 
lost  cause.  It  takes  a  peculiar  quality  of  de- 
votion, a  rare  quality  of  devotion. 

What  will  come  from  the  visit  of  that  celes- 
tial being,  you  wonder?  Wait  and  see.  I 
rarely  permit  myself  to  prophesy,  I  only  fig- 
ure out  the  probable  result  of  causes  known  to 
me.  You  can  do  the  same,  if  you  let  reason 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    165 

take  the  place  of  predilection.  To  judge 
clearly  of  the  effects  of  a  given  cause,  the  mind 
must  be  unbiased  by  desire;  it  must  be  as  cold 
as  a  mathematical  calculation.  It  is  by  this 
celestial  algebra  that  Masters  look  ahead. 

When  you  get  in  symbols  or  pictures  the  an- 
swers to  questions  propounded  to  your  Higher 
Self,  it  is  by  this  profounder  mathematics  that 
the  interior  one  prepares  its  answer.  It  knows 
causes  that  are  unknown  to  you,  and  from  these 
causes  can  foretell  effects  with  a  degree  of  ac- 
curacy almost  as  great  as  that  of  an  astrono- 
mer foretelling  an  eclipse.  Almost ,  I  say,  no£ 
quite;  for  in  dealing  with  human  affairs  even 
the  greatest  Masters  must  take  into  considera- 
tion an  erratic  element,  the  free  will  in  human 
beings.  That,  too,  may  be  guessed;  but  it  is 
guessing,  nevertheless.  A  sudden  uprush  of 
free  and  erratic  will,  and  a  new  cause  is  set  up, 
and  the  calculation  must  be  made  afresh. 

There  is  a  certain  charm  in  dealing  with  the 
erratic  element  of  will.  Perhaps  that  is  why 
some  persons  find  cats  more  fascinating  than 
dogs.  A  cat  is  a  wilful  erratic  animal;  so  are 
many  men. 


166    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

The  great  being  who  passed  this  night  along 
the  battle  line  has  been  watching  the  course  of 
earthly  events  for  a  considerable  time.  He  is 
one  of  those  who  serve  the  planetary  spirit  of 
the  earth  by  carrying  certain  ideas  around  the 
earth  when  the  time  has  come  for  them  to  play 
their  part  in  history.  I  cannot  tell  you  many 
details  about  the  life  of  this  being,  for  I  know 
only  a  few  facts  concerning  him.  He  is  so  far 
superior  to  me  that  my  possible  comprehension 
of  him  is  limited.  He  may  once  have  been  man, 
I  think  so ;  but  of  that  I  am  not  even  sure. 

I  have  been  told  that  it  was  he  who  first  im- 
pressed upon  a  small  but  courageous  section  of 
the  American  people  the  conviction  that  the 
time  had  come  when  human  slavery  in  America 
should  cease;  that  it  was  he  who  inspired  Co- 
lumbus with  the  idea  that  he  could  find  land  by 
sailing  west,  though  in  the  latter  case  he  was 
not  able  to  force  through  into  the  mind  of  his 
instrument  the  great  fact  that  an  immense  and 
independent  continent  lay  off  there  beyond  the 
western  sea,  and  between  it  and  another  sea 
whose  waters  washed  the  eastern  shores  of  Asia. 
Again,  I  have  been  told  that  it  was  this  being 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    167 

who  was  instrumental  in  revealing  the  knowl- 
edge of  electricity  to  mankind. 

Can  you  imagine  the  life  of  such  a  being? 
Can  you  extend  your  consciousness  so  as  to 
touch  his?  I  am  frank  enough  to  say  that  it 
is  difficult  even  for  me,  who  have  been  able  to 
remember  so  much  of  my  own  long  past,  and 
to  work  out  so  many  of  the  probable  effects  of 
the  causes  which  I  myself  set  up  in  the  far  past, 
effects  which  will  shape  my  future  lives  on 
earth. 

Imagine  an  independent  entity  of  vivid  life, 
yet  without  a  physical  or  even  an  astral  body, 
a  being  of  thought  whose  lowest  medium  is 
thought,  who  influences  his  chosen  instruments 
by  contact  with  their  naked  minds.  What  per- 
sonal wishes  can  such  a  being  have?  What  am- 
bitions can  he  have?  The  lower  and  limiting 
word  ambition  seems  grotesque  as  character- 
izing the  motive  force  of  such  a  being. 

He  has  a  name  among  us,  but  I  am  not  per- 
mitted to  tell  you  the  name.  It  has  a  great 
mantramic  value,  that  name,  and  if  you  should 
repeat  it  too  often  it  might  raise  your  own  con- 
sciousness, and  the  vibration  of  yourself,  to  a 


168    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

height  which  would  make  it  extremely  diffi- 
cult for  you  to  keep  your  hold  on  that  physi- 
cal body,  without  which  you  cannot  do  certain 
work  that  it  is  your  privilege  and  duty  to  per- 
form at  this  stage  of  your  evolution. 

There  is  a  certain  initiation  which  the  pupils 
of  the  great  Masters  take  under  the  guidance 
of  this  being ;  but  those  who  take  that  initiation 
retire  permanently  from  the  everyday  life  of 
men.  They  get  into  the  centre  of  causes,  which 
makes  them  so  dynamic — which  makes  their 
personality  and  their  thoughts  so  forceful — 
that  for  the  sake  of  the  world  itself  they  must 
not  come  too  close  to  it ;  because  all  things  work 
by  cyclic  law,  and  to  hasten  too  much  the  evo- 
lution of  humanity  would  be  dangerous  to  hu- 
manity. It  can  only  go  safely  at  a  certain  rate 
of  speed.  Above  that  speed  it  is  likely  to  meet 
with  accident. 

I  know  exactly  the  stage  that  I  myself  must 
reach  before  I  can  take  the  initiation  which  is 
presided  over  by  this  being.  When  I  have 
reached  that  stage  I  shall  not  be  able  to  come 
and  write  through  your  hand,  unless  you  raise 
yourself  a  corresponding  degree  above  your 
present  consciousness,  because  to  do  so  might 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    169 

dangerously  accelerate  your  own  rate  of 
growth. 

Since  coming  out  here  I  have  learned  much 
about  those  beings  who  have  in  charge  the 
higher  evolution  of  mankind.  Their  develop- 
ment would  be  quite  incomprehensible  to  the 
mass  of  even  enlightened  men  at  the  present 
time. 

They  are  and  must  be  very  lonely  beings, 
though  they  too  have  their  peers  and  fellow- 
workers.  Can  you  imagine  remaining  alone  a 
hundred  or  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  years, 
yet  all  the  time  extremely  active  in  mind,  fol- 
lowing with  your  thought  the  course  of  an  evo- 
lution which  you  yourself  have  long  left  behind 
in  your  own  growth,  following  it  with  the  mind 
alone,  because  the  emotional  nature  you  have 
also  left  behind,  and  doing  all  this  not  for  any 
personal  reward  but  because  it  is  a  labor  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  great  law  of  a  Being  still 
above  and  beyond  yourself? 

Obedience  is  taught  in  certain  schools,  not 
in  an  effort  to  control  the  pupil  in  the  interest 
of  the  Master,  but  that  the  pupil  may  thus  take 
his  first  steps  on  the  path  which  leads  to  obe- 
dience to  the  Cosmic  Will.  On  that  path  he 


170    WAR  LETTERS  FEOM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

will  have  to  go  an  immense  distance  before  he 
can  be  trusted  to  do  such  work  as  is  being  done 
by  the  being  who  passed  this  night  along  the 
battle-line  of  one  of  the  opposing  armies,  shed- 
ding the  light  of  his  thought  and  the  certainty 
of  his  purpose  into  a  few  minds  whose  recep- 
tivity made  possible  their  grasping  what  he 
gave. 

Do  not  weary  on  the  path,  you  who  are  tak- 
ing the  first  and  easiest  steps  of  the  journey 
that  shall  one  day  lead  you  to  the  Masters! 
The  path  is  indeed  steep,  and  as  one  inspired 
writer  said,  it  leads  uphill  all  the  way ;  but  there 
are  stages  at  which  the  traveller  may  pause  and 
enjoy  the  prospect.  I  seem  to  have  reached 
such  a  stage  myself,  and  though  I  am  always 
working  now,  yet  I  enjoy  my  work. 

The  awful  battle  that  some  of  us  fought 
with  the  elemental  beings  is  now  over.  The 
worst  calamity  that  could  have  befallen  man- 
kind is  happily  averted.  The  labor  of  the  pres- 
ent is  light  compared  with  the  labor  of  that 
struggle.  If  the  world  could  realize  what  it 
owes  to  the  Masters  whom  most  men  regard  as 
myths!  But  such  Teachers  do  not  work  for 
gratitude  nor  for  reward. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    171 

Follow  you  in  their  footsteps,  for  it  is  the 
only  road  that  can  lead  mankind  above  the 
awful  calamities  that  threatened  recently  to 
engulf  mankind.  (Z  am  not  referring  to  a 
mere  German  victory.} 

It  is  wise  to  keep  from  the  knowledge  of  men 
in  general  the  great  evolutionary  facts  which 
govern  the  life  of  the  planet.  A  mind  must  be 
lifted  above  the  small  circle  of  everyday  in- 
terests before  it  could  endure  such  knowledge. 

You  all  use  words  without  realizing  their 
meaning.  You  talk  of  guardian  angels;  you 
talk  of  hell  and  purgatory,  and  of  vicarious 
atonement,  and  of  sacraments.  Sacraments !  I 
could  tell  you  of  a  sacrament  that  is  verily  an 
eating  of  the  body  and  a  drinking  of  the  blood 
of  God;  but  I  refrain  lest  you  should  tell  the 
world,  and  if  you  should  tell  the  world  the  evil 
forces  of  the  world  would  destroy  you. 

But  I  am  coming  now  perilously  near  the 
things  that  may  not  be  spoken,  so  I  will  wish 
you  a  good-night — a  good-night  indeed — and 
go  back  to  my  labors,  in  the  rear  of  that  being 
of  light  who  passed  along  the  battlefields  this 
evening. 

April  17. 


LETTER    XXVII 

INVISIBLE  ENEMIES 

YOU  may  have  wondered  why  the  ele- 
mental beings  that  as  I  have  told  you 
precipitated  the  great  war  were  so  ma- 
licious at  this  time,  why  they  hurled  themselves 
upon  mankind  with  such  overwhelming  force. 
There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  know 
something  of  these  causes,  having  seen  so  much 
of  their  effects. 

The  saying  that  man  has  made  more  mate- 
rial progress  in  the  last  hundred  years  than  in 
the  preceding  two  thousand,  has  become  a  mere 
newspaper  commonplace.  It  is  because  he  has 
not  made  a  corresponding  moral  progress  that 
the  evil  elemental  beings,  who  fear  for  their 
rule  in  their  own  kingdom,  could  come  so  near 
to  succeeding  in  their  attacks  upon  the  human 
race. 

It  is  not  merely  in  material  ways  that  man 
has  progressed  with  such  amazing  rapidity,  for 
some  of  his  inventions  and  discoveries  touch  the 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    173 

invisible  regions.  The  doors  of  man's  mind  are 
opening  on  the  untracked  spaces  of  aether  in 
which  these  beings  live.  Man  is  chaining  the 
elements,  and  to  chain  the  elements  may  be  to 
chain  the  elementals.  One  man  in  America 
has  come  so  near  to  a  great  and  dangerous  se- 
cret that  his  eyes  have  had  to  be  veiled  by  those 
who  fear  for  man's  too  rapid  progress. 

Occult  societies  dot  the  world.  In  other  days 
these  societies  were  really  secret,  and  no  one 
had  access  to  their  knowledge  until  after  tests 
were  passed  which  proved  fitness  for  further 
study  and  further  secrets.  But  the  doors  of 
the  unseen  have  been  besieged  by  an  army  of 
intellectual  enthusiasts  who  have  not  passed 
those  tests.  Curiosity  demands  to  know  that 
which  only  the  nobility  of  the  spirit  was  once 
trusted  with.  Democracy  has  spread  even  into 
the  occult  orders,  and  sacred  mysteries  have 
been  published  broadcast  by  those  who  put  no 
curb  upon  their  personal  ambitions.  The  hosts 
of  the  unseen  world  have  themselves  suffered 
invasion. 

Now  the  hosts  of  the  unseen  will  obey  a  great 
soul  that  they  know  to  be  more  powerful  than 
themselves.  They  run  like  docile  children  at 


174    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

his  call,  and  they  go  at  his  command  as  a  dog 
goes.  But  the  unseen  hosts  are  very  jealous 
of  their  freedom,  and  they  will  yield  it  only  to 
one  whose  superiority  is  manifest  to  them. 
Many-— yes,  most — of  those  who  are  now  seek- 
ing to  open  the  doors  of  that  region  are  unfit  to 
command  there ;  because  he  only  can  command 
the  unseen  forces  outside  who  can  command 
the  unseen  forces  inside  himself. 

In  a  former  letter  I  spoke  of  the  danger  of 
black  magic  in  America;  but  the  danger  is 
everywhere.  And  what  is  black  magic?  It 
may  be  briefly  defined  as  a  use  for  selfish  pur- 
poses of  those  very  forces  of  the  unseen  world. 
ISTot  until  a  man  has  advanced  beyond  himself 
will  the  invisible  forces  serve  him  long  without 
rebellion. 

Pick  up  a  common  newspaper,  and  you  will 
see  the  advertisements  of  men  and  women  who 
promise  for  a  fee  to  bring  about  results  which 
can  only  be  brought  about  by  using  those  invis- 
ibles. What  blasphemy !  What  presumption ! 
If  these  advertisers  could  make  good  their 
claims,  they  would  be  more  dangerous  than  ty- 
phus fever.  Such  advertisements  arouse  all 
the  curiosity  and  ambition  and  fiery  selfishness 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    175 

latent  in  the  heart  of  the  ignorant.  These  un- 
trained dabblers  in  the  mysteries  attempt  to  do 
things  which  an  Adept  would  never  dream  of 
doing,  for  most  of  their  efforts  have  for  pur- 
pose some  attack  upon  the  free  will  of  others ; 
they  seek  to  influence  the  desires  and  the  judg- 
ment of  others  in  the  narrow  and  personal  in- 
terest of  those  who  pay  them  to  set  the  forces 
in  operation.  Would  you  let  a  child  loose  in  a 
gunpowder  factory  with  a  box  of  matches  in 
his  hand?  That  is  what  has  been  done  in  the 
last  few  years  all  over  the  western  world. 

No  wonder  the  invisible  beings  have  rebelled. 
They  will  follow  a  Master,  but  they  resent  the 
interference  of  a  fool. 

It  is  not  the  fools  they  fear,  however.  The 
men  they  fear  are  the  great  scientists.  Man's 
progress  in  science  has  been  such  that  he  must 
purify  his  motives,  or  he  will  be  destroyed. 

That  is  one  reason  why  I  am  preaching 
brotherhood,  in  an  attempt  to  save  men  from 
their  own  folly.  Once  let  the  feeling  for  broth- 
erhood become  general,  and  these  experiments 
with  unknown  forces  would  be  less  dangerous. 
Mankind  as  a  mass  might  work  with  the  power 
of  a  White  Master,  whose  motives  are  always 
unselfish. 


176    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

The  great  scientists  come  nearer  than  any- 
body else  to  that  pure  working  with  mind  for 
mind's  own  sake,  which  I  recently  described  in 
writing  of  a  great  being,  a  great  Initiator,  who 
serves  the  world  by  influencing  along  the  line 
of  evolutionary  law  the  thoughts  of  certain  men 
who  are  the  chosen  instruments  of  evolution. 

How  little  men  know  of  the  unseen  world 
surrounding  them! 

I  recently  followed  you  into  a  lecture  room 
in  New  York  that  was  even  more  crowded  with 
invisible  beings  than  with  men  and  women. 
Your  restlessness  there  had  cause,  as  you  well 
knew.  The  purpose  of  that  meeting  was  to 
form  a  nucleus  of  a  society  of  curiosity-seekers 
for  investigating  the  unseen,  for  necromancy 
and  ceremonial  magic.  Madness  of  madness! 
I  heard  one  man  express  the  determination  that 
the  proposed  society  should  not,  like  the  So- 
ciety for  Psychical  Research,  close  its  doors  to 
the  outside  world;  but  that  the  society  should 
invite  all  who  were  interested  in  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  unseen,  including  the  newspaper 
reporters.  A  press  agent  for  the  occult ! 

Let  me  describe  a  few  of  the  auditors  who 
were  invisible  to  any  in  the  room  except  one 
person : 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    177 

A  long  lean  hungry  being  with  the  face  of  a 
gargoyle  and  the  stomach  of  an  unfed  leech 
yearned  over  the  gathering.  He  was  almost 
affectionate  in  his  interest  in  one  of  the  speak- 
ers. 

Another,  bloated  and  lethargic,  had  already 
fed  himself  since  entering  the  room. 

Another,  frightened  and  tortured,  was  seek- 
ing an  exit;  but  could  not  get  outside  the  de- 
sire-aura of  one  of  the  participants  in  that 
orgy  of  curiosity. 

Another,  powerful  and  malignant,  moved 
from  place  to  place,  selecting  his  future  vic- 
tims. He  will  be  present  at  the  meetings  of 
the  society.  He  will  try  to  keep  it  alive,  for 
he  knows  of  a  fascinating  possibility  which  I 
shall  not  record  here. 

Why  do  you  go  to  such  places  ? 

April  18. 


LETTER    XXVIII 

THE  GLORY  OF  WAR 

I    HAVE  written  of  the  beauty  of  peace; 
but  I  now  want  to  write  of  the  glory  of 
war,  for  war  has  its  glories.     Anything 
that  arouses  man  to  the  highest  pitch  of  en- 
thusiasm is  glorious;  for  what  is  glory  but  a 
radiation  of  light,  a  burst  of  that  life  which  is 
the  Sun  in  man? 

I  regret  this  war.  The  suffering,  the  agony, 
the  torment  that  I  have  seen  and  have  felt 
through  sympathy,  have  left  their  marks  upon 
me;  but  had  I  remained  in  the  safety  of  the 
neutral  stars  I  should  have  missed  the  glory 
of  the  fight. 

Man  had  grown  too  tame,  without  acquir- 
ing the  virtues  of  tameness;  but  this  war  has 
served  the  purpose  of  the  gods  by  hurling  man 
into  the  primitive,  the  savage,  where  life  had 
its  roots,  but  from  which  the  sap  flows  that  will 
blossom  later  in  such  a  faith  as  the  world  has 
never  seen. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    179 

Suffering  and  joy  are  forever  opposite  and 
equal.  Man  may  rest  for  a  time  in  the  neutral 
condition  of  a  well-fed  half-consciousness ;  but 
when  the  extremes  of  suffering  and  joy  come 
to  him,  he  is  no  longer  half-conscious,  but 
awake  and  alive,  and  glory  shines  round  him. 

Could  the  Masters  have  prevented  this  war? 
They  could  have  retarded  it;  but  the  causes 
were  present  in  the  hearts  of  men,  in  the  invis- 
ible forces  within  them  as  well  as  outside  them, 
and  to  have  further  delayed  the  explosion 
would  have  served  no  planetary  purpose. 

The  men  who  are  not  dead  are  more  alive 
than  they  were  twelve  months  ago,  and  even 
the  so-called  dead  are  living-dead. 

We  pushed  back  the  forces  of  evil,  yes ;  but 
that  was  a  part  of  the  struggle,  that  was  the 
struggle  in  our  world. 

Let  me  tell  you  the  story  of  one  man  whom  I 
knew  in  the  days  of  peace.  He  was  well-fed 
and  half-asleep  with  prosperity,  he  prattled 
mild  commonplaces  about  life,  and  ethics,  and 
the  duties  of  a  citizen;  but  what  did  he  really 
know  of  life,  or  of  ethics,  or  of  the  duties  of  a 
citizen? 


180    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

We  will  call  him  Johnson.  He  has  been  in 
this  war  some  months,  a  fighter  for  England, 
and  the  integrity  of  England;  and  now  when 
he  speaks  of  life  his  speech  has  meaning,  be- 
cause life  to  him  now  is  the  opposite  and  mate 
of  death.  He  feels  enthusiasm  for  it,  the  glory 
of  it  shines  round  him. 

Johnson  had  a  son,  an  only  child.  Fathers 
will  know  what  I  mean. 

In  the  great  retreat  in  which  Johnson  was 
one  of  the  leaders  his  son  fell  before  his  eyes — - 
wounded  but  not  dead.  For  one  swift  heart- 
beat the  father  turned  to  his  boy  .  .  .  then 
he  went  on  with  his  command  that  otherwise 
would  have  been  leaderless,  leaving  his  only 
child  to  the  tender  mercies  of  an  army  drunk 
with  the  pitiless  glory  of  conquerors. 

Johnson  will  never  again  prattle  common- 
places about  life.  He  has  learned  the  meaning 
of  death,  and  of  tortured  uncertainty  far  worse 
than  death. 

April  20. 

(This  letter  was  left  unfinished — for  no  rea- 
son apparent  to  me. — Editor.) 


LETTER   XXIX 

A    FRIEND    OF    "x" 

A   MAN  died  yesterday  with  your  name 
in  his  thoughts. 

No,  he  was  not  a  friend  of  yours,  but 
someone  you  have  never  seen.  Back  in  Eng- 
land last  year  he  read  the  former  book  which 
I  wrote  through  your  hand,  and  was  intensely 
interested  in  it.  For  months  he  wanted  to  meet 
you,  but  being  a  modest  man  he  waited. 

Then  the  war  broke  out,  and  he  went  with 
the  army  to  Belgium. 

Day  and  night  since  the  first  fighting  he  has 
been  meditating  the  facts  and  possibilities  of 
that  book.  Is  there  a  future  life  continuous 
with  that  of  earth?  Can  a  man  return  as  I 
claimed  to  return,  and  can  he  give  to  a  woman 
still  in  the  land  of  the  living  a  record  of  his 
experiences  among  the  dead?  Had  I  really 
seen  the  things  I  reported,  and  did  I  go  to  the 
pattern  world  and  the  heaven  world,  where  I 
saw  the  Saviour  of  men  with  a  lamb  on  his  arm, 
etc.,  etc.? 


182    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

One  thing  this  man  never  questioned,  and 
that  was  the  sincerity  of  the  scribe.  Of  that. he 
was  convinced  by  instinct  and  by  a  kind  of  An- 
glo-Saxon chivalry  difficult  for  the  men  of 
some  races  to  understand. 

He  was  always  talking  to  his  trench-mates 
about  the  future  life.  He  would  sit  smoking 
his  pipe  in  silence  and  gazing  off  into  space, 
and  when  other  soldiers  asked  him  what  he  was 
thinking  of  so  busily,  he  would  often  say:  "I 
am  thinking  of  a  book  I  read  last  summer,  and 
wondering  if  it  was  true."  When  they  asked 
him  what  book  he  referred  to,  he  would  tell 
them  about  the  Letters  of  a  Living  Dead  Man, 
and  quote  to  them  whole  sentences  from  it,  and 
give  them  the  outlines  of  its  stories,  and  ex- 
plain to  them  the  philosophical  propositions 
scattered  through  the  book.  Whole  evenings 
have  been  taken  up  with  these  discussions. 

You  have  not  been  to  the  wars,  either  as  a 
soldier  or  as  a  nurse ;  but  you  have  been  to  the 
wars. 

It  was  a  curious  coincidence  that  that  book 
should  have  been  published  only  a  few  months 
before  the  greatest  taking-off  of  human  souls 
in  the  history  of  the  world.  Had  you  thought 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    183 

of  that?  I  had  not,  until  the  Teacher  pointed 
it  out  to  me. 

There  was  one  question  which  particularly 
interested  our  friend  who  died  yesterday  with 
your  name  in  his  thoughts:  the  question 
whether,  if  he  should  go  out  of  life  at  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  he  could  prepare  such  a  "little 
home  in  heaven"  as  we  wrote  about,  for  a  girl 
whom  he  loved  back  in  England;  and  if  he 
should  prepare  it  and  wait  for  her,  whether  she 
would  be  true  to  him  after  his  death,  and  meet 
him  there  in  a  few  years,  and  dwell  with  him  in 
the  little  home. 

This  young  man  had  read  certain  writings  of 
an  American  mystic  on  the  theory  of  counter- 
partal  souls,  and  he  believed  that  in  the  girl 
back  in  England  he  had  found  his  counterpar- 
tal  soul,  as  I  hinted  of  the  man  in  my  story  who 
built  the  little  home  in  heaven. 

But  no  word  of  this  did  he  speak  to  his 
trench-mates.  To  them  he  spoke  about  the 
other  stories  in  the  book,  not  about  that  one. 
It  is  curious  that  we  never  mention  to  others 
the  favorite  subject  of  our  thoughts — that  is, 
most  of  us  do  not. 


184    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Another  thing  in  the  book  which  interested 
our  friend  was  the  story  of  the  woman  in  the 
invisible  who  made  a  journey  into  Egypt  with 
her  still-living  husband.  He  used  to  wonder 
whether,  if  he  should  die,  he  could  go  in  the 
spirit,  as  he  said,  to  the  little  place  in  North 
Wales  which  he  had  once  visited  with  his  sweet- 
heart, and  which  they  had  selected  as  the  fu- 
ture scene  of  their  wedding  journey. 

One  night  he  wrote  her  a  long  letter  asking 
her,  in  case  of  his  death,  to  go  there  this  sum- 
mer, and  saying  he  would  try  to  meet  her 
there.  Then  after  reflection  he  destroyed  the 
letter,  fearing  it  might  make  her  sad. 

When  I  saw  about  him  a  peculiar  light  which 
the  indwelling  spirit  throws  round  its  vehicle 
when  that  vehicle  is  about  to  be  destroyed,  I 
waited,  knowing  there  would  soon  be  work  to 
do. 

Suddenly  I  saw  his  body  fall  to  the  ground, 
and  saw  the  tenuous  bodies  exuding  themselves. 
I  waited  but  a  moment,  then  went  forward  and 
lifted  the  spirit  out  of  the  sleep  into  which  it 
would  have  drifted.  I  breathed  on  the  fore- 
head of  the  astral — for  astrals  have  foreheads, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    185 

make  no  mistake  about  that — I  breathed  on  the 
astral  forehead  of  the  man  who  had  paid  our 
book  the  compliment  of  thinking  about  it  and 
about  us  in  the  last  moment  of  his  life. 

He  opened  his  eyes  on  my  face. 

"Hello,  'X'!"  he  said.  "I  hoped  you  would 
meet  me  here.  You're  a  good  fellow  not  to 
disappoint  me." 

"Oh,  I  was  always  a  good  fellow!"  I  an- 
swered. "How  did  you  know  so  quickly  that 

vou  had  come  out?" 

«/ 

"Because  I  saw  you." 

"An.'  how  did  you  know  me?" 

"By  your  photograph,  which  I  saw  in  a  mag- 
azine." 

"But  do  I  still  look  like  that  old  hulk?"  I 
asked ;  for  I  rather  pride  myself  on  the  recov- 
ery of  a  certain  part  of  my  original  youth  and 
beauty. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "you  do  look  like  the  pho- 
tograph." 

"That  is  strange,"  I  replied.  Then  I  re- 
membered that  my  very  knowledge  of  the 
man's  thoughts  of  me,  as  being  the  old  Judge 
of  the  story,  might  have  made  my  body  trans- 
form itself  to  meet  the  demands  of  his  recog- 


186    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

nition,  even  without  the  intervention  of  my 
will. 

"Do  you  want  to  take  a  nap?"  I  asked, 
though  there  was  no  sleepiness  in  his  eyes. 

"No,  thank  you,  'X.'  I  should  like  to  go  to 
England.  But  perhaps  you  have  something  to 
do  besides  indulging  my  wants  and  wishes." 

I  laughed. 

"Your  wants  and  wishes  are  just  as  import- 
ant as  mine,"  I  said.  "I'll  go  to  England  with 

you." 

We  went. 

Crossing  the  Channel  we  passed  a  transport 
laden  with  troops. 

"I  wish  all  those  fellows  knew  as  much  as  I 
do,"  my  friend  said.  "Maybe  they  would  fight 
with  renewed  vigor  if  they  could  see  what  a 
good  companion  I  have  found  out  here." 

Do  not  be  startled,  you  clergymen  who  say, 
"Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  and  draw  sol- 
emn faces  as  you  preside  over  the  passing  of 
souls !  Do  not  be  startled  or  shocked  by  the 
jolly  conversation  of  my  newly-arrived  soldier- 
boy.  He  knew  that  he  was  with  an  old  friend, 
and  he  knew  also  that  death  is  no  more  sacred 
than  life,  and  need  not  be  any  more  solemn. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    187 

We  went  to  call  on  a  girl.  I  often  went 
courting  in  my  youth,  but  never  did  I  feel  more 
interest  in  such  a  visit  than  when  I  went  with 
this  soldier  to  see  his  girl.  The  fact  that  she 
could  not  see  us  made  no  difference.  I  am 
used  to  that  now. 

She  was  combing  her  hair  when  we  arrived, 
beautiful  long  hair,  and  on  the  mantel  before 
her  and  under  the  mirror  was  a  photograph  of 
my  friend.  As  her  eyes  rested  on  it  lovingly, 
suddenly  he  passed  between  her  and  the  photo- 
graph, and  she  cried  out : 

"Why,  the  eyes  are  alive!"  and  dropped  the 
comb  on  the  floor. 

Then,  as  the  truth  flashed  through  her  mind, 
she  said,  very  solemnly: 

"My  dear,  if  it  is  really  you,  and  if  you  have 
come  to  me  in  this  strange  way,  know  that  I 
love  you  and  shall  always  love  you,  and  that  I 
will  meet  you  in  heaven." 

Then  she  sat  down  in  a  little  chair  and  be- 
gan to  cry. 

I  left  him  with  her ;  but  I  shall  return  occa- 
sionally to  see  how  my  charge  is  getting  along, 
and  by  and  by  I  shall  teach  him  some  of  the  les- 
sons on  which  his  future  welfare  depends.  I 


188    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

do  not  wish  him  to  return  to  the  neighborhood 
of  the  battlefields.  Why  should  he?  He  has 
served,  and  has  earned  his  reward. 

Perhaps  later  I  may  tell  you  something  more 
about  the  man  who  died  with  your  name — and 
mine — in  his  thoughts. 

April  24. 


LETTER    XXX 

THE  ROSE  AND  THE  CROSS 

MORE  and  more  I  am  charmed  and 
amazed  by  that  one  whom  we  call  the 
Beautiful  Being.  I  shall  never  un- 
derstand it,  for  its  ways  are  not  our  ways. 

Yesterday  it  passed  over  the  battlefield 
again,  and  I  should  have  written  when  I  came 
to  you  a  few  hours  afterward  had  I  not  pitied 
your  weariness.  Do  not  be  discouraged. 
Sometimes  the  Masters  of  Compassion  may 
seem  to  their  servants  to  have  no  compassion; 
but  they  know,  as  the  servants  cannot  know, 
that  the  hardest  road  leads  up  the  highest 
mountain,  and  that  there  is  rest  at  the  top. 

The  Beautiful  Being  passed  over  the  battle- 
field. Imagine  a  rose  in  a  cannon's  mouth,  a 
bird  singing  in  the  heart  of  an  earthquake,  a 
pearl  in  a  landslide,  an  angel  in  hell. 

You  know  not  the  meaning  of  the  word  bat- 
tlefield. Yesterday  thousands  died  in  the  aw- 
ful uproar.  Noise!  noise!  noise! — till  the 


190    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

nerves  shrieked  with  pain  and  despair  seized 
the  soul.  To  go  out  of  life  in  that  seething 
maelstrom  is  generally  to  pass  into  another 
seething  maelstrom,  hotter  and  noisier  than  the 
one  left  behind. 

How  can  I  write  of  war  so  as  to  spare  your 
feelings?  The  great  Teachers  are  not  trying 
to  spare  your  feelings.  They  want  you  to  feel 
and  feel,  till  the  very  force  of  the  wave  of  feel- 
ing carries  you  high  on  the  shore  of  Adeptship. 
And  they  want  you  to  think  and  think,  till  the 
irresistible  cold  of  logic  freezes  self  out  of  you. 
Ice  and  fire! 

If  you  shrink  from  knowing  what  the  sol- 
diers of  the  nations  have  suffered  tha*  you  may 
be  free,  you  are  unworthy  of  that  freedom. 
Do  not  shrink  from  suffering.  The  husk  of 
the  seed  must  be  broken  before  the  sprout  can 
appear. 

In  dying  for  their  country,  those  souls  in  the 
hell  of  battle  are  giving  birth  to  the  new  time. 
In  suffering  with  them,  your  souk  are  giving 
birth  to  the  new  in  yourselves.  Do  not  look 
for  joy  while  humanity  is  in  travail,  unless  you 
can  find  the  joy  in  suffering.  Yes,  I  know  the 
time  when  first,  and  through  whom,  that  grand 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    191 

idea  found  lodgment  in  your  consciousness.  It 
is  the  secret  of  great  souls  in  this  hour  of  the 
world's  pain. 

If  you  suffer  till  you  can  suffer  no  more — 
then  the  poles  shift,  and  the  joy  of  suffering  il- 
luminates the  soul.  Then  the  beautiful  being 
in  yourself  hovers  over  the  battlefield  where  the 
lesser  self  has  been  slain. 

There  is  a  beautiful  being  in  every  one  of 
you,  the  bird  that  sings  in  the  heart  of  the  earth- 
quake, the  rose  that  nestles  in  the  hot  mouth  of 
the  cannon,  the  pearl  that  cannot  be  crushed 
by  the  landslide,  the  angel  that  illumines  helL 

All  the  normal  feelings  of  the  human  heart 
are  intensified  at  this  time.  No  one  is  the  same 
as  before  the  war  burst — no  one,  anywhere  in 
the  world.  The  soul  of  humanity  is  in  travail. 
This  incarnation  of  humanity  is  turned  against 
itself,  and  rends  itself.  The  heart  of  humanity 
is  an  abyss,  into  which  humanity  had  grown  too 
blind  to  look,  so  the  blazing  torches  of  the 
guardians  of  good  and  evil  have  been  thrust 
into  the  abyss,  and  all  the  drowsing  dwellers 
therein  have  been  suddenly,  rudely  awakened. 

Oh,  hearts  of  earth,  do  not  fall  asleep  again ! 
Pity  and  love  one  another,  for  the  pain  of  one 


192    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

is  the  pain  of  each,  and  over  the  battlefield  of 
the  suffering  race  the  Beautiful  Being  hovers. 

Humanity  is  the  One,  and  humanity  is  the 
many,  and  all  together  you  may  come  into  the 
inheritance  of  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

You  are  familiar  with  the  symbol  of  the 
Rose-Cross.  Not  until  the  hard  wood  is  driven 
through  your  four  limbs,  in  the  pain  of  your 
shocked  and  wounded  nerves,  can  the  great  red 
rose  of  love  unfold  its  perfumed  petals  upon 
your  breast,  between  the  arms  of  the  cross. 

The  human  in  you  is  the  pain  of  the  cross, 
the  divine  in  you  is  the  perfume  of  the  rose, 
and  you  yourself,  you  human  and  divine,  are 
the  Rose-Cross. 

If  you  shrink  from  the  splintering  pain  of 
the  wood  as  it  claims  you  for  its  own,  you  can- 
not smell  the  perfume  of  the  rose  which  also 
claims  you  for  its  own. 

Do  not  refuse  the  great  initiation,  O  human- 
ity of  the  races!  Do  not  hide  yourself  in  the 
dungeon  of  fear  when  the  great  Initiator 
comes ! 

On  the  awful  cross  of  war  shall  blossom  the 
red  rose  of  the  new  race.  On  the  cross  of  each 
mortal  form  may  blossom  its  red  rose. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    193 

The  rose  marks  the  balance  between  the  East 
and  the  West,  between  the  rising  and  the  set- 
ting sun,  between  the  human  and  the  divine. 
The  arms  of  the  cross  extend  to  infinity,  its 
feet  are  buried  in  the  substance  of  eternity,  its 
head  is  among  the  angels  and  the  gods,  and  the 
heart  of  the  rose  is  everywhere.  It  is  in  every 
heart  of  all  these  myriads  who  shrink  at  the 
touch  of  the  hard  wood. 

I  hear  every  day  the  shrieks  of  those  who  are 
making  the  vicarious  atonement  for  the  race. 
When  they  lie  mangled  on  the  battlefield,  the 
arms  of  the  cross  are  being  driven  through 
their  quivering  flesh,  and  the  petals  of  the  rose 
are  unfolding  in  their  hearts. 

They  are  dying  for  love  at  the  hands  of  hate, 
for  love  and  hate  are  opposite  and  omnipres- 
ent. Their  love  for  their  country  is  their  call 
to  the  atonement,  their  at-one-ment  with  the 
God  who  established  the  law  of  the  East  and 
the  West,  the  Height  and  the  Depth,  the  op- 
posing forces  of  Love  and  Hate.  Thej^  have 
accepted  the  sacrifice.  For  them  shall  be  the 
resurrection  and  the  life,  after  their  sojourn 
among  the  dead,  their  sojourn  in  hell. 


194    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

They  shall  appear  to  the  Magdalen  at  the 
door  of  the  sepulchre,  the  one  whose  sins  were 
forgiven  because  she  loved  much,  and  who  shall 
call  the  disciples  to  give  them  the  tidings  of 
great  joy. 

The  soul  of  the  world  is  the  risen  Christ,  and 
the  disciples  rejoice  at  the  tidings. 

How  can  I  withhold  from  you  the  great 
event  which  Time  has  ushered  in? 

For  thirty  pieces  of  silver  the  soul  of  the 
world  was  sold,  and  the  Judas  of  the  world  has 
given  the  kiss  of  betrayal  with  the  name  of  God 
on  his  lips,  and  the  Roman  soldiers  are  al- 
ready dividing  the  garments. 

Pontius  Pilate  has  washed  his  hands  of  the 
issue,  and  his  wife  weeps  in  her  chamber  at  the 
disregarding  of  her  dream.  The  priests  of  the 
Sanhedrim  are  wagging  their  heads  with  sat- 
isfaction, but  the  veil  of  the  Temple  of  Hu- 
manity is  rent  from  top  to  bottom. 

How  could  you  receive  the  message  if  you 
had  not  suffered,  O  listener  at  the  door  of 
Time?  Who  would  believe  you,  had  you  not 
grasped  the  truth  of  the  atonement?  Until 
the  wood  of  the  cross  had  been  driven  through 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    195 

your  limbs,  the  rose  could  not  blossom,  O  world 
in  travail  at  this  hour ! 

Be  still,  and  know  that  God  is  God.  In  the 
stillness  of  perception  the  petals  begin  to  open, 
and  joy  steals  over  the  heart,  and  the  heart 
swells  with  the  expanding  joy,  till  every  fibre 
of  the  cross  is  alive  and  tingling  with  the  joy 
at  the  heart  of  the  rose,  and  the  fragrance 
sweetens  the  world. 

And  the  Beautiful  Being,  a  ray  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  hovers  over  the  Calvary  of  the  battle- 
field. 

April  25. 


LETTER   XXXI 

A  SERBIAN  MAGICIAN 

IT  is  a  long  road  from  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Rose-Cross  to  plague-stricken  Serbia,  but 
that  is  the  road  you  take  with  me  this 
morning. 

There  is  a  reason  why  that  country  has  been 
most  susceptible  to  the  astral  germs  of  disease, 
that  a  loathesome  being  of  which  I  wrote  you 
in  a  former  letter  spewed  forth  into  the  upper 
world. 

Long  ago  in  the  mountains  of  Serbia  there 
dwelt  an  evil  magician,  a  man  whose  studies  in 
the  deeper  sciences  were  undertaken  solely  for 
the  intellectual  and  selfish  pleasure  which  he 
found  in  them.  He  had  progressed  so  far  be- 
yond the  normal  human  consciousness  that  he 
had  no  worldly  ambitions.  To  him  the  world 
was  but  a  despicable  place  to  escape  from,  and 
the  people  of  the  world  were  insects  beneath 
his  notice,  save  only  as  he  could  use  them  for 
his  purposes. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    197 

He  considered  himself  a  kind  of  god,  and  so 
diligent  were  his  selfish  labors  that  had  he  de- 
voted his  knowledge  to  the  good  of  the  human 
race  from  which  he  sprang,  he  might  really 
have  become  a  kind  of  god.  But  selfish  and  evil 
beings  need  never  aspire  to  godship.  At  most 
they  can  take  but  a  step  beyond  the  human. 
The  grub  may  become  a  butterfly,  but  if  it 
hates  the  sunlight  and  the  air  of  the  higher  re- 
gions, its  wings  had  better  not  have  grown. 

This  man,  this  selfish  magician,  had  learned 
that  by  certain  magical  formula?  he  could  call 
to  himself  beings  of  the  elements,  and  that  by 
the  aid  of  these  invisibles  he  could  create  astral 
beings  which,  while  themselves  soulless,  he 
could  energize  with  his  own  force. 

Now  the  turn  for  real  and  active  evil  which 
marked  a  certain  stage  in  his  life,  came  about 
in  this  way : 

He  had  found  what  seemed  to  him  a  secure 
retreat  among  the  mountains,  he  had  prepared 
and  magnetized  the  neighborhood  of  his  hut  so 
that  it  was  a  centre  of  astral  force,  and  his 
right  to  the  undivided  possession  of  that  spot 
was  one  of  the  ideas  which  he  energized  for  his 
own  protection. 


198    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Now  the  owner  of  the  mountain  where  the 
magician  lived  discovered  that  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  hut  was  a  good  place  for  hunting  the 
wild  animals  of  that  region,  and  soon  the  quiet 
of  the  magician's  studies  was  broken  by  the  re- 
ports of  the  guns  of  the  hunters,  who  even 
crossed  with  their  despised  bodies  the  very  cir- 
cle which  the  magician  had  prepared  for  his 
own  use. 

This  proved  that  he  was  not  a  very  high  ma- 
gician, for  had  he  made  that  centre  for  a  work 
having  as  object  the  benefit  of  humanity,  mem- 
bers of  that  humanity  could  not  have  profaned 
it.  The  retreats  of  the  Masters  of  Compassion 
are  secure  against  intrusion. 

In  his  rage  and  disappointment  he  called 
down  curses  upon  the  hunters  and  upon  all  the 
region  roundabout,  and  by  his  evil  magic  he 
created  beings  who  should  execute  his  curses. 
He  created  them  upon  the  earth  and  in  the  air 
above  and  in  the  region  below  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  to  each  he  allotted  a  task  with  fear- 
ful penalties  for  disobedience.  His  use  of  the 
power  he  had  gained  was  a  use  positively  for- 
bidden by  the  Law  under  which  the  real  Mas- 
ters work. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    199 

It  really  caused  the  hunters  to  go  away  from 
that  neighborhood,  but  the  beings  he  had  called 
and  the  beings  he  had  created  remained  there ; 
for  he  had  not  sufficient  knowledge,  or  maybe 
not  a  sufficient  sense  of  responsibility  for  his 
nefarious  work,  to  make  him  destroy  or  banish 
them  himself. 

And  when  he  died,  at  the  ripe  age  of  one 
hundred  and  twelve  years,  and  his  will  was  re- 
moved from  them,  they  still  remained  in  a  state 
of  semi-animation  in  the  lower  regions  of  the 
astral  world. 

Then,  a  century  or  more  afterwards,  when 
the  great  war  wave  broke  over  Europe,  and  the 
evil  hosts  of  the  unseen  came  clamoring  for 
their  prey  and  their  satisfaction,  these  old  as- 
tral monsters  awoke  out  of  their  sleep  and 
joined  themselves  to  them,  and  the  whole 
neighborhood  which  the  evil  magician  had 
cursed  became  an  infected  place,  from  the  ex- 
halations of  those  beings  whose  raison  d'etre 
had  been  a  man's  hatred  of  the  people  who  had 
disturbed  him  in  his  selfish  labors. 

I  am  not  going  to  describe  the  process  by 
which  he  had  created  them  and  laid  an  evil 
spell  upon  a  whole  neighborhood,  for  I  am  de- 
termined not  to  bestow  upon  a  selfish  world  any 


200    WAR  LETTEKS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

knowledge  that  it  can  use  to  make  more  trou- 
ble in  future.  But  I  want  you  to  realize  that 
Serbia  is  really  a  dangerous  place.  That  is 
why  it  was  chosen  as  the  focusing  point  for 
the  evil  onslaught  of  war. 

The  people  of  Serbia  are  brave  and  in- 
nocent of  all  this  astral  evil  which  has  come 
upon  them.  They  were  used  because  the  evil 
forces  could  get  at  them  through  this  region 
already  under  a  curse  from  of  old. 

The  time  has  come  when  the  men  of  the  new 
race  must  know  that  there  are  things  to  be 
avoided  in  the  astral  world.  If  certain  teach- 
ers had  told  less,  this  warning  might  not  be 
necessary;  but  the  world  has  acquired  already 
so  clear  a  perception  that  there  is  another  world 
within  and  outside  their  own,  that  their  nat- 
ural curiosity  must  be  protected  by  warnings 
not  to  fool  with  the  unseen,  until  they  have  ac- 
quired such  a  selfless  devotion  to  their  fellow- 
beings  that  they  may  explore  it  without  being 
themselves  infected  by  the  poison  of  the  snake 
that  nestles  there  among  the  flowers. 

The  old  magician  has  passed  on  into  that 
sphere  where  selfish  scholars  pursue  their  in- 
vestigations unhampered  by  the  limitations  of 
gross  matter;  but  the  full  responsibility  for  his 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    201 

actions  in  those  Serbian  hills  when  he  was  last 
on  earth  will  wait  for  him  at  the  door  of  re- 
birth. When  he  comes  to  the  world  again  it 
will  be  in  a  body  which  is  itself  a  victim  of  all 
the  plagues  which  he  let  loose  there,  in  the  de- 
termined effort  to  protect  himself  against  oth- 
ers who  had  as  good  a  right  there  as  he  had. 

Stay  out  of  Serbia  till  it  has  been  cleansed 
of  plague,  you  whose  work  is  not  connected 
with  the  specialty  of  plague-destruction.  But 
those  doctors  and  other  scientists  who  are  de- 
votedly going  thither  to  save  the  race  from  the 
horror  that  threatens  it — to  them  shall  be  ac- 
corded all  the  honors  and  glories  of  war  and  of 
peace,  for  they  have  consented,  their  higher 
selves  have  consented,  that  they  be  used  in  the 
service  of  the  world. 

I  have  said  before  that  the  evil  elemental  be- 
ings fear  the  scientist ;  and  though  the  scientists 
fight  this  plague  with  material  means,  yet  the 
force  of  their  will  and  of  their  unselfish  pur- 
pose acts  beyond  the  material  base  of  their  op- 
erations, extending  its  influence  even  into  the 
invisible  world  of  which  their  objective  minds 
have  no  knowledge,  purifying  it  with  vital  air. 

Yes,  all  honor  to  the  scientists ! 

April  26. 


LETTER   XXXII 

JUDAS  AND  TYPHON 

I  HAVE  spoken  of  the  crucifixion  through 
which  the  soul  of  the  race  is  passing.  Now 
I  want  to  speak  of  the  Judas  who  betrayed 
that  race  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

Reader  of  this  book,  whether  you  are  a  Jew, 
a  Christian,  a  Hindoo  or  a  Mahometan,  if  you 
know  anything  at  all  about  the  initiatory  pro- 
cess of  the  soul,  you  must  know  that  the  gospel 
drama — be  it  historical  or  legendary,  which- 
ever way  you  choose  to  take  it — is  a  faithful 
dramatization  of  the  process  of  initiation. 

And  in  that  process  the  betrayal  of  Judas  is 
an  inevitable  part.  Without  it,  the  cup  of  bit- 
terness would  not  be  full,  and  the  cup  of  bit- 
terness must  be  full  for  the  soul  of  the  race, 
the  soul  of  the  individual,  the  soul  of  the  Christ. 

"My  Father,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?" 
has  been  on  the  lips  of  many  a  mangled  soldier 
on  this  awful  Calvary  of  the  race. 

The  heavy  cross  has  been  borne  all  through 
the  toilsome  months  of  the  journey  from  Au- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    203 

tumn  to  Spring,  and  now  in  the  April  time  the 
race  has  been  nailed  to  the  cross  for  the  agony. 
The  crown  of  thorns  is  on  the  bleeding  brows, 
the  nails  have  pierced  the  hands  and  feet,  the 
cup  of  vinegar  has  been  offered,  and  now  on  a 
million  lips  is  the  cry,  "Eloi,  Eloi,  lama  Sabach- 
thani!" 

The  betrayal  of  Judas  was  inevitable,  as  the 
deed  of  Typhon  was  inevitable.  Had  it  not 
been  for  Judas,  the  story  would  not  be  com- 
plete. Had  it  not  been  for  the  act  of  Typhon 
in  slaying  Osiris,  Horus  the  Son  could  not  have 
arisen. 

And  yet  in  the  face  of  this  I  stand  here — safe 
behind  the  veil  of  the  invisible,  as  some  object- 
ors will  say — and  advise  the  world  to  soften  the 
awful  punishment  of  Judas,  so  far  as  lies  in 
its  power.  For  did  not  that  One  himself  say 
upon  the  cross,  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do"? 

Nothing  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  noth- 
ing in  the  sacred  records  of  the  East,  nothing 
in  the  archives  of  the  whole  world  can  compare 
with  those  ten  words  for  grandeur  and  spir- 
itual significance:  "Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do!" 


204    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

They  who  now  sin  against  the  race,  indeed 
know  not  what  they  do.  They  are  drunk  with 
the  rage  of  destruction,  maddened  by  the  sub- 
consciousness  of  their  own  guilt ;  but  what  they 
do  they  cannot  know.  Only  the  initiate  souls 
among  the  Germans  even  vaguely  know  what 
Germany  has  done. 

And  yet  I  say,  forgive  and  pity  them;  for 
their  office  is  a  terrible  one,  and  their  suffering 
will  be  great. 

Fear  not,  when  your  blood  relations  are  slain 
by  thousands,  and  when  you  feel  yourself  also 
slain  by  spiritual  participation,  the  good  must 
triumph  in  the  end,  because  the  race  is  on  its 
upward  journey.  Its  blood  is  not  spilled  in 
vain. 

Did  the  human  race  not  know,  when  it  gave 
the  sop  to  Germany  in  the  last  conclave,  that  it 
was  Germany  who  would  betray  it?  The  race 
knew. 

And  in  that  awful  July  the  subconscious 
selves  of  men  knew  in  their  sleep  that  the  ter- 
rible trial  was  at  hand.  Do  you  remember  ?  In 
many  a  sensitive  soul  that  drama  was  pre-en- 
acted,  before  it  was  enacted  on  this  Calvary  of 
the  nations. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    205 

That  Germany  would  betray  the  world  was 
written  in  the  soul  of  Germany;  but  if  the 
world  should  hate  her  with  a  continuing  hate 
for  that  betrayal,  it  would  be  a  sore  in  the  heart 
of  the  human  race  which  would  ache  for  a  thou- 
sand years.  "Father,  forgive  them;  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do." 

To  admit  the  necessity  of  evil  in  the  cosmic 
scheme  is  not  to  condone  evil.  To  forgive  the 
sinner  is  not  to  minimize  the  sin.  It  is  because 
of  the  inability  of  the  undeveloped  mind  to 
grasp  the  awful  law  of  the  balance  of  forces 
that  the  Guardians  of  the  sacred  knowledge 
have  been  so  reticent  in  their  public  utterances. 

"It  must  needs  be  that  offenses  come;  but 
woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offense  cometh," 
has  been  repeated  in  thousands  of  churches ;  but 
the  latter  half  of  the  sentence  has  been  under- 
stood far  better  than  the  first  half,  "It  must 
needs  be  that  offenses  come." 

Being  what  she  is,  Germany  could  not  help 
betraying  the  race  to  this  crucifixion.  It  was 
written  that  the  human  race  would  be  betrayed, 
and  no  nation  could  have  done  it  but  Germany. 

Typhon  was  obliged  to  slay  Osiris,  by  the 
very  law  of  his  being.  And  now  Isis,  the  great 


206    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Mother,  the  Womanhood  of  the  world,  wanders 
wailing  up  and  down  seeking  for  the  fragments 
of  the  body  of  her  husband. 

On  the  battle  line  for  a  thousand  miles  those 
fragments  are  scattered.  Isis  is  indeed  wid- 
owed. 

And  as  man  is  the  type  of  the  great  Arche- 
type, so  one  man  stands  this  day  as  the  type 
of  the  Betrayer,  and  that  man  is  Willielm  of 
Germany. 

The  disease  which  long  has  eaten  at  his  brain, 
a  contributory  cause  of  his  ego-mania,  was  the 
vulnerable  spot,  the  spot  unguarded  between 
the  lamps  of  the  magic  circle  of  Europe,  where 
the  evil  forces  found  entrance.  Verily,  it  shall 
be  woe  to  him  by  whom  this  offense  has  come ! 

And  in  saying  that  the  world  must  not  hate 
the  nation  which  Evil  has  used  as  its  servant,  I 
am  not  advising  sentimental  weakness  in  the 
final  closing  of  this  account.  The  world  for  its 
own  protection  must  make  it  impossible  tfeat 
Germany  should  ever  repeat  this  betrayal.  The 
details  I  leave  to  the  specialists,  being  a  modest 
ghost,  and  speaking  from  my  safe  retreat  be- 
hind the  veil  of  the  invisible. 

April  27. 


LETTER    XXXIII 

CROWNS  OF  STBAW 

IN  seeking  to  hold  back  the  karma  of  Ger- 
many, I  am  not  seeking  to  upset  the  law 
of  justice,  the  law  of  cause  and  effect. 
On  the  contrary. 

Your  studies  in  the  law  of  karma  have  been 
but  superficial  if  you  have  not  learned  that  time 
is  a  factor.  Many  a  solvent  firm  would  be 
thrown  into  bankruptcy  should  all  its  creditors 
demand  at  once  full  payment  of  their  accounts. 
The  moral  and  financial  indebtedness  of  Ger- 
many is  its  awful  karma.  Give  it  a  little  time 
in  which  to  adjust  itself  to  an  entirely  new  way 
of  thinking. 

I  listened  to  a  discussion  which  you  had  with 
a  friend  the  other  day*  in  regard  to  the  hy- 
pothesis that  Germany's  false  assertion  of 
"Deutschland  iiber  Alles"  being  so  powerfully 
postulated,  could  overcome  facts ;  that  the  hu- 

*The  following  clauses  of  this  paragraph,  not  being 
clear  in  the  original,,  were  rewritten  by  me. — Editor. 


208    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

man  race  might  be  evolving  into  the  era  of 
mind,  and  that  a  powerful  concept,  however 
false,  might  make  facts  conform  to  it. 
Let  us  see. 

The  idea  that  Germany  and  the  Germans 
are  superior  to  everything  else  in  the  world  lies 
so  deep  in  the  minds  of  that  race  that  it  will 
be  difficult  to  eliminate  it. 

As  you  yourself  observed,  there  is  another 
race  known  to  history  which  declared  itself  to 
be  the  chosen  people  of  God,  and  for  that  arro- 
gant assumption  is  now  scattered  over  the  face 
of  the  earth,  a  homeless  people,  no  longer  even 
a  nation. 

The  attempt  to  create  a  thing  by  postulating 
it  as  already  existent  is  not  new.  Affirmation 
and  denial  are  used  with  telling  effect  by  a 
modern  school  of  thinkers,  who  disregard  ut- 
terly the  facts  of  nature. 

Now  when  we  disregard  and  deny  the  facts 
of  nature,  we  may  suspend  the  operations  of 
nature  in  ourselves  to  a  certain  degree  and  for 
a  certain  time,  or  we  may  fail  in  so  doing,  and 
by  reason  of  our  consciousness  of  our  failure 
become  more  than  ever  the  puppets  of  nature. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    209 

The  Christian  Science  healer  who  fails  to 
heal  and  honestly  acknowledges  his  failure, 
may  go  on  asserting  his  power  in  the  face  of 
that  demonstrated  failure,  or  he  may  become 
a  complete  doubter  of  himself  and  of  the  claims 
of  his  science,  or  he  may  re-examine  both  in  the 
light  of  facts  and  become  a  real  student  of  the 
mysteries  of  nature  and  of  mind. 

Germany  may  take  any  one  of  these  three 
courses  when  she  has  demonstrated  the  old  say- 
ing of  the  wisest  of  men,  that  they  that  take  the 
sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword. 

Did  you  ever  try  to  convince  a  German  of  a 
fact  which  he  denied?  I  see  that  you  have. 
Did  your  proof  of  his  mistake  convince  him 
that  he  could  be  mistaken?  Probably  not. 

Now  Germany  has  really  made  herself  into 
a  great  nation  by  postulating  her  greatness  and 
superiority  in  all  things.  Her  mistake  con- 
sisted in  trying  to  prove  it.  In  trying  to  prove 
a  statement  you  tacitly  admit  for  the  time  that 
the  opposite  assumption  may  have  some  base, 
and  if  you  are  not  able  to  demonstrate  your 
contention  you  are  lost — unless  you  are  a  Ger- 
man. A  German  convinced  against  his  will  is 
of  the  same  opinion  still. 


210    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

If  facts  do  not  bear  him  out,  then  facts  are 
false.  Now  facts  are  not  false,  and  Germany 
is  not  superior  in  all  things  to  every  other  na- 
tion on  earth.  She  may  have  more  guns  and 
more  soldiers  than  two  or  three  of  the  other 
nations,  that  is  a  fact  which  we  gladly  admit; 
but  superiority  in  guns  and  soldiers  is  only  su- 
periority in  guns  and  soldiers.  It  is  not  su- 
periority in  all  things. 

Germany  has  said  in  effect  that  might  is 
right.  Well,  let  her  prove  her  might,  and  we 
will  then  discuss  the  right  of  might. 

Some  years  before  I  left  the  earth  I  was 
stronger  than  most  men  of  my  acquaintance; 
but  if  I  had  on  that  ground  knocked  them  down 
and  taken  their  watches,  my  own  superior 
strength  might  have  been  useless  to  me  except 
to  propel  my  six-foot  body  up  and  down  a  cell 
in  the  county  jail.  I  might  have  taken  the 
watches,  but  I  could  not  have  kept  them,  for 
my  individual  might  would  have  been  out- 
classed by  the  might  of  the  society  in  which  I 
dwelt.  So  with  Germany. 

Most  men  consider  themselves  superior  to 
their  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  are  se- 
cretly annoyed  that  their  friends  and  acquaint- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN   211 

ances  do  not  acknowledge  it.  But  on  the 
strength  of  that  supposed  superiority  they  do 
not  generally  knock  their  neighbors  down. 

My  assertion  of  my  superiority  to  all  other 
men  and  angels  does  not  make  me  superior  to 
them  in  anything  but  fatuous  conceit. 

If  a  Christian  Scientist  with  a  broken  leg  as- 
serts that  he  has  not  a  broken  leg,  if  does  not 
change  the  fact.  The  strength  of  his  as- 
sertion may  work  in  the  direction  of  curing 
the  defect — granted.  It  often  does. 

The  conceit  of  Germany  has  called  out  her 
energy  and  made  her  material  present  supe- 
rior to  her  material  past;  but  that  cannot  place 
her  "over  all,"  unless  she  convinces  the  world 
of  it,  and  the  world  accepts  an  inferior  place. 
Germans  are  not  convincing  advocates,  because 
they  always  arouse  opposition  by  overstating 
the  facts  in  their  favor,  and  in  disputing  the 
facts  against  them. 

So  little  do  they  understand  the  critical 
minds  of  the  more  critical  races,  that  they  try 
to  convince  by  mere  assertion,  and  so  preju- 
dice their  case  from  the  start. 

One  service  Germany  will  have  done  the 
world;  she  will  have  hardened  it.  It  is  a  tragic 


212    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

service,  and  one  that  will  turn  against  herself. 
Many  a  parent  by  his  blind  brutality  has  made 
his  son  a  greater  brute  than  he.  Many  a  man 
by  wounding  a  friend  has  been  stabbed  to  the 
soul  in  return.  The  friend  may  be  harder  than 
before,  but  has  he  profited?  Perhaps.  Expe- 
rience is  an  asset.  Man  grows  by  pain  as  well 
as  by  pleasure.  If  the  brutality  of  Germany 
makes  the  races  of  Europe  more  vigorous,  they 
are  the  gainers — not  Germany.  The  Doctor 
who  gives  too  bitter  medicine  is  sent  about  his 
business,  sometimes  without  his  fee. 

There  was  once  a  "mental"  scientist  who  de- 
clared that  it  was  not  necessary  for  his  daugh- 
ter to  practice  the  piano ;  that  all  she  needed  to 
do  was  to  affirm  that  she  was  a  pianist,  and  she 
would  be  one. 

Germany  is  in  the  position  of  the  daughter 
who  had  acted  on  that  teaching,  and  has  be- 
come the  horror  of  the  neighborhood.  She  is 
in  danger  of  being  dispossessed  as  a  public 
nuisance. 

Also  an  aggregation  of  individuals  making 
one  assertion  do  not  necessarily  have  an  effect 
in  proportion  to  their  numbers. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN   213 

Do  you  remember  what  I  wrote  you  about 
white  and  black  magicians,  that  two  who 
worked  together  for  good  had  the  power  of 
four,  and  that  two  who  worked  together  for 
evil  had  only  the  power  of  one  and  a  half? 
Now  what  is  Germany  working  for  in  this  com- 
bined effort?  Solely  for  herself — exactly  like 
the  black  magician. 

So  deep  has  the  German  conceit  sunk  into 
the  German  soul,  that  they  really  believe  that 
in  occupying  and  enslaving  other  countries  they 
would  be  doing  them  a  favor.  No,  I  am  not 
exaggerating.  I  have  heard  Germans  make 
that  humorless  statement. 

Lunatic  asylums  are  full  of  men  who  assert 
that  they  are  kings,  and  an  occasional  inmate 
declares  himself  the  King  of  kings.  These  pa- 
tients are  even  more  fully  convinced  than  are 
the  Germans,  who  assert  their  kingship.  If 
assertion  alone  can  transcend  fact,  these  men 
are  kings.  Are  they?  To  themselves  they  are, 
and  the  Germans  are  just  as  surely  "over  all" 
as  are  the  straw-crowned  kings  in  the  asylums. 

It  is  useless  to  argue  with  a  king  in  a  straw 
crown.  He  has  an  irresistible  argument — his 


214    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

crown.  Can  you  not  see  it?  If  you  do  not  sa- 
lute, he  turns  his  back  and  walks  away. 

But  even  a  king  in  a  lunatic  asylum  may  be 
cured  and  restored  to  a  sane  equality  with  his 
peers.  That  is  what  I  hope  for  Germany. 
That  is  what  the  Masters  hope — for  Germany 
stands  high  in  the  record-book  of  the  Masters. 
A  king  in  a  straw  crown  has  not  lost  his  soul 
through  his  false  assertion  of  kingship.  He  is 
an  immortal  son  of  God.  His  spirit  is  as  gen- 
uine as  yours  or  mine.  His  error  is  only  tem- 
porary, and  is  generally  caused  by  brooding 
too  long  over  imagined  wrongs  and  slights. 
Not  unlike  Germany. 

When  this  idea  of  superiority  began  to  fes- 
ter in  the  minds  of  that  noble  people,  they  were 
not  a  great  nation.  They  felt  their  wrongs  and 
the  slights  put  upon  them.  The  only  escape 
for  their  wounded  egoism  was  into  the  world 
of  the  mind,  where  assertion  has  free  play. 
They  turned  their  backs  and  plaited  their  straw 
crowns.  They  were  kings,  and  anyone  who  did 
not  see  it  was  unworthy  of  the  honor  of  their 
friendship. 

Then,  their  madness  having  taken  a  violent 
form,  came  the  great  doctor,  War,  and  confined 


WAK  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN   215 

them  in  a  relatively  narrow  space ;  but  the  small 
people  they  knocked  down  in  their  first  attack 
of  violence  still  lie  prostrate  from  the  blow. 
The  heirs  of  these  kings  will  have  to  pay  dam- 
ages. The  law  of  nations  is  even  more  just 
than  the  laws  of  men. 

Who  dares  to  say  that  a  State  has  no  mor- 
als? Is  a  State  spiritually  inferior  to  a  man? 
No  more  than  a  Planetary  Spirit  is  inferior  to 
a  State.  There  is  a  cosmic  morality,  and  who- 
ever goes  against  it — whether  a  State  or  a  man 
— will  meet  the  day  of  reckoning.  Karma  is  a 
law. 

April  29. 


LETTER   XXXIV 

THE  SYLPH  AND  THE  FATHER 

PASSING  yesterday  along  the  line  where 
the  great  French  army  stands  before 
its  powerful  opponent,  and  marking  the 
spirit  of  courage  and  aspiration  which  makes 
it  seem  like  a  long  line  of  living  light,  I  saw  a 
familiar  face  in  the  regions  outside  the  phys- 
ical. 

I  paused,  highly  pleased  at  the  encounter, 
and  the  sylph — for  it  was  a  sylph  whom  I  met 
— paused  also  with  a  little  smile  of  recognition. 

Do  you  recall  in  my  former  book  the  story 
of  a  sylph,  Meriline,  who  was  the  companion 
and  familiar  of  a  student  of  magic  who  lived 
in  the  rue  de  Vaugirard  in  Paris  ? 

It  was  Meriline  that  I  met  above  the  line  of 
light  which  shows  to  wanderers  in  the  astral 
regions  where  the  soldiers  of  la  belle  France 
fight  and  die  for  the  same  ideal  which  inspired 
Jeanne  d'Arc — to  drive  the  foreigner  out  of 
France. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    217 

"Where  is  your  friend  and  master?"  I  asked 
the  sylph,  and  she  pointed  below  to  a  trench 
which  spoke  loud  its  determination  to  conquer. 

"I  am  here,  to  be  still  with  him,"  she  said. 

"And  can  you  speak  to  him  here?"  I  asked. 

"I  can  always  speak  with  him,"  she 
answered.  "I  have  been  very  useful  to  him — 
and  to  France." 

"To  France?"  I  enquired,  with  growing  in- 
terest. 

"Oh,  yes!  When  his  commanding  officer 
wants  to  know  what  is  being  plotted  over  there, 
he  often  asks  my  friend,  and  my  friend  asks 


me." 


"Truly,"  I  thought,  "the  French  are  an  in- 
spired people,  when  the  officers  of  armies  ask 
guidance  from  the  realm  of  the  invisible !  But 
had  not  Jeanne  her  visions?" 

"And  how  do  you  gain  the  information  de- 
sired?" I  asked,  drawing  nearer  to  Meriline, 
who  seemed  more  serious  than  when  we  met 
some  years  before  in  Paris. 

"Why,"  she  answered,  "I  go  over  there  and 
look  around  me.  I  have  learned  what  to  look 
for,  he  has  taught  me,  and  when  I  bring  him 
news  he  rewards  me  with  more  love." 

"And  do  you  love  him  still,  as  of  old?" 


218    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"As  of  old?" 

"Yes,  as  you  did  back  there  in  Paris." 

"Time  must  have  passed  slowly  with  you," 
said  the  sylph,  "if  you  call  a  few  years  ago  'as 
of  old'."  * 

"Are  a  few  years,  then,  as  nothing?" 

"A  few  years  are  as  nothing  to  me,"  she 
replied.  "I  have  lived  a  long  time." 

"And  do  you  know  the  future  of  your 
friend?"  I  asked. 

A  puzzled  look  came  over  the  face  of  Meri- 
line,  and  she  said,  slowly: 

"I  used  to  know  everything  that  would  hap- 
pen to  him,  because  I  could  read  his  will,  and 
whatever  he  willed  came  to  pass ;  but  since  we 
have  been  out  here  he  seems  to  have  lost  his 
will." 

"Lost  his  will!"  I  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  lost  his  will;  for  he  prays  continually 
to  a  great  Being  whom  he  loves  far  more  than 
me,  and  he  always  prays  one  prayer,  'Thy  will 
be  done !'  It  used  to  be  his  will  which  was  al- 
ways done ;  but  now,  as  I  say,  he  seems  to  have 
lost  his  will." 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "it  is  true  of  the  will  as 
was  once  said  of  the  life,  and  he  that  loses  his 
will  shall  find  it." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN   219 

"I  hope  he  will  find  it  soon/'  she  answered, 
"for  in  the  old  days  he  was  always  giving  me 
interesting  things  to  do,  to  help  him  achieve 
the  purposes  of  his  will,  and  now  he  only  sends 
me  over  there.  I  don't  like  over  there!" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  my  friend  is  menaced  by  some- 
thing over  there." 

"And  what  has  his  will  to  do  with  that?" 

"Why,  even  about  that,  he  says  all  day  to 
the  great  Being  that  he  loves  so  much  more 
than  me,  Thy  will  be  done'." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  learn  to  say  it, 
too?"  I  asked. 

"I  say  it  after  him  sometimes;  but  I  don't 
know  what  it  means." 

"Have  you  never  heard  of  God?" 

"I  have  heard  of  many  gods,  of  Isis  and  Osi- 
ris and  Set,  and  of  Horus,  the  son  of  Osiris." 

"And  is  it  to  one  of  these  that  he  says,  'Thy 
will  be  done'?" 

"Oh,  no!  It  is  not  to  any  of  the  gods  that 
he  used  to  call  upon  in  his  magical  working. 
This  is  some  new  god  that  he  has  found." 

"Or  the  oldest  of  all  gods  that  he  has  re- 
turned to,"  I  suggested.  "What  does  he  call 
Him?" 


220    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven." 
"If  you  also  should  learn  to  say  'Thy  will 
be  done'  to  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven/'  I 
said,  "it  might  help  you  toward  the  attainment 
of  that  soul  you  were  wanting  and  waiting  for, 
when  last  we  met  in  Paris." 

"How  could  our  Father  help  me?" 
"It  was  He  who  gave  souls  to  men'"  I  said. 
The  eyes  of  the  sylph  were  brilliant  with 
something  almost  human. 

"And  could  He  give  a  soul  to  me?" 
"It  is  said  that  He  can  do  anything." 
"Then  I  will  ask  Him  for  a  soul." 
"But  to  ask  Him  for  a  soul,"  I  said,  "is  not 
to  pray  the  prayer  your  friend  prays." 

"He  only  says " 

"Yes,  I  know.  Suppose  you  say  it  after 
him." 

"I  will,  if  you  will  tell  me  what  it  means.  I 
like  to  do  what  my  friend  does." 

"Thy  will  be  done,"  I  said,  "when  addressed 
to  the  Father  in  heaven,  means  that  we  give  up 
all  our  desires,  whether  for  pleasure  or  love  or 
happiness,  or  anything  else,  and  lay  all  those 
desires  at  His  feet,  sacrificing  all  we  have  or 
hope  for  to  Him,  because  we  love  Him  more 
than  ourselves." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    221 

"That  is  a  strange  way  to  get  what  one  de- 
sires/' she  said. 

"It  is  not  done  to  get  what  one  desires/'  I 
answered. 

"But  what  is  it  done  for?" 

"For  love  of  the  Father  in  heaven." 

"But  I  do  not  know  the  Father  in  heaven. 
What  is  He?" 

"He  is  the  Source  and  the  Goal  of  the  being 
of  your  friend.  He  is  the  One  that  your  friend 
will  re-become  some  day,  if  he  can  forever  say 
to  Him,  Thy  will  be  done." 

"The  One  he  will  re-become?" 

"Yes,  for  when  he  blends  his  will  with  that 
of  the  Father  in  heaven,  the  Father  in  heaven 
dwells  in  his  heart  and  the  two  become  one." 

"Then  is  the  Father  in  heaven  really  the  Self 
of  my  friend?" 

"The  greatest  philosopher  could  not  have 
expressed  it  more  truly,"  I  said. 

"Then  indeed  do  I  love  the  Father  in  heav- 
en," breathed  the  sylph,  "and  I  will  say  now 
every  day  and  all  day,  'Thy  will  be  done'  to 
Him." 

"Even  if  it  separates  you  from  your  friend?" 


222    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"How  can  it  separate  me  from  my  friend,  if 
the  Father  is  the  Self  of  him?" 

"I  would  that  all  angels  were  your  equal  in 
learning,"  I  said. 

But  Meriline  had  turned  from  me  in  utter 
forgetfulness,  and  was  saying  over  and  over, 
with  joy  in  her  uplifted  face,  "Thy  will  be 
done !  Thy  will  be  done !" 

"Truly,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  passed  along 
the  line,  "he  who  worships  the  Father  as  the 
Self  of  the  beloved  has  already  acquired  a  soul." 

April  29. 


LETTER   XXXV 

BEHIND  THE  DARK  VEIL 

ONE  night,  when  the  roar  of  battle  was 
still,  and  the  rays  of  the  full  moon 
shone  down  upon  trampled  mud,  and 
man-filled  trench,  and  tender  spring-green 
growing  things  and  soft-hued  flowers,  I  met 
face  to  face  a  powerful  being  in  a  dark  mantle 
who  passed  along  the  line  of  war  with  slow, 
majestic  steps. 

Seeing  me  he  paused,  and  I  paused  also, 
struck  by  the  grace  of  his  tall  form  and  the 
royal  air  of  him.  His  face  was  veiled. 

"Who  are  you,"  he  said,  "who  walk  here  at 
this  hour  as  if  in  meditation?" 

"I  am  a  man  much  given  to  meditation,"  I 
replied,  "and  this  hour  seems  fit  for  it." 

"And  what  was  the  subject  of  your  medita- 
tion?" 

"The  war  below  us." 

"And  what  was  the  course  of  your  thoughts, 
which  my  appearance  interrupted?" 


224    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"My  thoughts  were  of  peace/'  I  said,  "and 
they  were  full  of  questions  as  to  how  the  car- 
nage of  this  war  might  be  made  to  cease." 

"Your  questions  were  in  order/'  the  majes- 
tic being  answered.  "Perhaps  I  can  be  of  help 
to  you." 

"Will  you  not  unveil?"  I  suggested,  "for  I 
like  to  see  the  faces  of  those  with  whom  I  hold 
converse." 

He  threw  back  a  fold  of  the  dark  covering 
of  his  head,  revealing  a  face  which  I  know  not 
how  to  describe.  Power  and  evil  were  blent  in 
it,  and  a  strange  beauty,  both  superhuman  and 
subhuman.  The  face  was  marked  as  if  by  an 
eternity  of  pain  and  struggle;  but  in  the  eyes 
was  a  light  of  will  which  startled  me  by  its 
force. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked. 

"What  matter  who  I  am?"  he  replied.  "I 
am  one  who  can  solve  the  problem  of  your  med- 
itations." 

"You  do  not  look  like  an  angel  of  peace,"  I 
said,  "but  rather  like  one  who  has  seen  much 
war  of  his  own  making." 

"It  is  for  that  reason  that  I  am  competent  to 
speak  of  peace.  What  do  the  peaceful  know 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    225 

of  peace?  Only  the  warrior  knows  the  mean- 
ing of  that  word." 

"I  will  listen,"  I  said,  "to  whatever  you  have 
to  say;  for  I  recognize  that  you  know  some- 
thing of  the  Law." 

"I  am  one  of  the  executors  of  the  Law,"  he 
answered,  "and  I  have  a  plan  for  bringing 
peace  to  the  world." 

"Will  you  state  that  plan?" 

"It  is  for  that  I  came  out  here  to  meet  you," 
he  said. 

"And  how  did  you  learn  of  me?" 

"I  know  all  the  strong  workers  and  many  of 
the  weak  ones.  You  are  a  powerful  worker." 

"Truly  you  do  me  too  much  honor,"  I  said, 
"for  I  am  only  a  humble  soldier  in  the  army  of 
the  Law's  executants." 

"The  modesty  of  the  great,"  he  observed, 
while  he  eyed  me  closely  to  see  the  effect  of  his 
words. 

"Whoever  you  are,"  I  said,  "and  I  perceive 
that  you  are  something  unusual,  know  that  my 
interest  in  my  own  stature  is  no  longer  para- 
mount with  me." 

"It  is  for  that  reason  that  you  may  be  used 
in  the  interest  of  peace." 


226    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Continue,"  I  requested. 

He  regarded  me  for  a  time  with  brilliant, 
questioning  eyes,  and  then  he  asked: 

"You  are  weary  of  war,  of  the  labor  of  war?" 

"I  am  weary  with  my  sympathy  for  those 
who  suffer." 

"And  you  would  like  to  end  their  suffering?" 

"It  seems  to  me  at  times,"  I  said,  more  to 
myself  than  to  him,  "that  I  would  gladly  give 
my  life,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  shorten  the  hor- 
rors down  here." 

"Your  life?  And  what  do  you  mean  by  your 
life?" 

"I  mean  my  consciousness  of  freedom,  my 
freedom  of  consciousness." 

"A  good  definition  of  the  life  of  such  as  you," 
he  observed.  "And  would  you  really  sacrifice 
that  life  for  the  world?" 

"Most  gladly,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  save 
the  world." 

"It  might  be  possible,"  he  said. 

"Will  you  speak  more  plainly?"  I  demanded. 
"You  seem  to  me  to  be  feeling  your  way  to 
some  statement  of  importance." 

"What  can  be  more  important,"  he  returned, 
"than  the  sacrifice  of  such  a  life  as  yours  for 
the  world?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    227 

"Go  on." 

"There  is  a  way,"  he  said,  "by  which  your 
sacrifice  of  what  you  call  'the  consciousness  of 
freedom  and  the  freedom  of  consciousness' 
might  save  those  men  down  there  from  further 
pain." 

"Again  I  repeat,  go  on." 

"It  lies  in  my  power,"  he  said,  coming  nearer 
and  regarding  me  fixedly  with  his  glowing  eyes, 
"it  lies  in  my  power  so  to  work  upon  the  minds 
of  the  opposing  armies,  the  armies  on  both 
sides,  that  they  will  refuse  to  fight  any  longer." 

"And  betray  their  countries?"  I  asked. 

"And  bring  peace,"  he  corrected  me. 

"And  what  have  I  to  do  with  it?" 

"You  might  have  much  to  do  with  it." 

"Your  words  are  still  dark  to  me,"  I  said. 

"Then  I  will  make  them  clearer,"  he  replied. 
"In  order  for  you  to  understand  my  meaning, 
it  is  necessary  that  I  explain  myself.  I  am  one 
of  those  who  serve  the  good  by  opposing  the 
good,  and  thus  giving  it  greater  activity." 

"So  I  had  observed.  Will  you  now  state  in 
clear  words  what  purpose  you  have  with  me?" 

"My  purpose  is  to  make  you  a  proposition. 
If  you  wish  this  carnage  to  cease — and  already 


228    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

it  has  gone  on  long  enough  to  serve  the  pur- 
pose which  I  serve,  to  soak  the  world  with 
blood,  to  destroy  that  which  a  decade  of  labor 
will  be  too  brief  to  rebuild,  to  awaken  all  the 
hatred  and  other  evil  passions  which  nest  in 
the  hearts  of  men — if  you  wish  this  carnage  to 
cease,  I  have  the  means  by  which  it  can  be 
made  to  cease." 

"And  where  do  I  come  in?" 

"I  have  long  observed  you,"  he  said,  "ob- 
served your  diligence  in  applying  the  princi- 
ples given  you  by  your  Teacher." 

"Then  why  did  you  ask  me  who  I  was,  a  lit- 
tle while  ago?" 

"Only  as  a  preliminary  to  further  conversa- 
tion." 

"Oh!"  I  said. 

"I  have  observed  you,"  he  repeated,  "and 
realized  that  with  your  power  and  attainments 
you  might  be  of  greater  service  if  you  should 
shift  your  allegiance  and  join  us.  Your  con- 
sciousness of  freedom  would  be  even  greater." 

"But  that  consciousness  of  freedom  was  my 
definition  of  life!  I  suppose  you  would  say, 
in  adjusting  your  argument  to  the  limitations 
of  my  mind,  that  in  losing  my  life  I  should  find 
it."  " 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    229 

A  slight  smile  curved  the  lined  features  of 
the  being  before  me. 

"You  would  be  always  an  entertaining  com- 
panion/' he  said.  "Think  twice  before  you 
decline  my  proposition." 

"In  your  proposed  agreement,"  I  replied, 
"you  do  not  state  clearly  the  consideration. 
I  am  an  old  lawyer,  and  a  stickler  for  forms." 

There  was  no  smile  now  on  his  face,  as  he 
said  to  me: 

"If  you  will  transfer  your  allegiance  to  us, 
I  will  bring  this  war  to  an  end." 

"And  could  you?" 

"I  could." 

"How?" 

"I  have  already  stated  how." 

"But  the  medicine  you  propose  would  be 
worse  than  the  disease,  even  assuming,  which 
I  deny,  that  the  patient  would  swallow  it." 

"But  would  you  not  make  the  sacrifice,  if 
I  proved  to  you  that  I  could  make  good  my 
end  of  the  bargain?" 

"No." 

"Then  surely  you  care  little  for  the  world!" 

"You  argue  like  a  German  propagandist," 
I  said. 


230    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"You  mean  that  they  argue  like  me,"  he 
corrected. 

"I  have  wondered,"  I  said,  "in  what  school 
of  logic  they  were  trained." 

"And  you  refuse  my  proposition?" 

"I  wonder  you  should  take  the  trouble  to 
make  it." 

"Why  call  that  a  trouble  which  gives  me  the 
pleasure  of  your  society?" 

"I  have  already  heard,"  I  said,  "that  the 
devil  was  a  great  flatterer." 

"The  devil  has  great  tact." 

We  stood  looking  at  each  other,  measuring 
each  other.  He  was  an  interesting  study. 

"Dropping  for  the  moment,"  I  said,  "our 
differences  of  purpose  and  ideal,  and  speak- 
ing merely  as  two  minds — " 

"Equal  in  brilliancy,"  he  interrupted. 

"Speaking  as  two  minds,"  I  continued,  "will 
you  not  tell  me  why  you  played  upon  my  love 
for  the  world,  my  willingness  to  sacrifice  my- 
self for  the  world,  in  your  attempt  to  win  me 
to  your  standard?" 

"What  else  could  I  play  upon?" 

"Surely  I  must  have  some  fault,  some  hidden 
sin,  through  which  your  subtle  mind  could  have 
thought  to  reach  me." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    231 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  am  too  wise  to  tempt  you 
through  your  hidden  faults,  for  you  are  de- 
termined to  conquer  them!  You  could  not  be 
thrown  off  the  track  that  way.  Only  those 
young  on  your  path  are  easily  conquered 
through  their  faults.  The  greater  souls  we  at- 
tack through  their  virtues." 

"Continue,"  I  said,  "for  truly  you  interest 
me." 

"It  is  said  in  the  world,"  he  went  on,  "that 
there  is  more  than  one  way  to  skin  a  cat.  There 
is  also  more  than  one  way  to  get  rid  of  a  worker 
for  the  Teachers  whom  you  follow.  When  we 
cannot  deflect  a  worker  through  his  evil  pas- 
sions, his  hatred,  anger,  avarice,  lust,  jealousy 
or  fear,  we  are  sometimes  able  to  weaken  him 
through  his  good  passions,  his  love,  his  loyalty, 
or  his  self-sacrifice." 

"Thank  you  for  your  confidence,"  I  said. 
"And  now  I  will  wish  you  good  evening." 

As  I  passed  along  the  line  I  murmured  to 
myself: 

"Truly  is  the  serpent  more  subtle  than  any 
beast  of  the  field,  and  man  needs  all  his  wisdom 
to  stand  against  him." 

May  1. 


LETTER  XXXVI 


THE  "LUSITANIA' 


(This  letter  was  written  on  the  7th  of  May, 
at  10.30  A.  M.,  New  York  time,  one  hour  after 
the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania,  and  nine  hours 
before  the  writer  knew  of  it.) 

AND  still  they  press  forward  against  us 
— the  menacing  powers  of  darkness  and 
evil,  seeking  to  vent  their  rage  against 
the  world  and  to  glut  themselves  on  the  blood 
of  the  slain. 

I  have  not  been  near  you  for  a  few  days 
because  I  have  had  no  time.  Did  you  fancy 
that  I  had  escaped  time  ?  Not  yet.  Had  I  es- 
caped time,  I  could  not  speak  thus  to  the 
world  in  the  grip  of  time.  Had  I  quite  trans- 
cended space,  your  room  could  not  hold  me. 

During  the  six  days  that  you  have  not  seen 
me  I  have  been  here,  there  and  everywhere  in 
Europe — even  in  Asia  have  I  been,  for  the 
attack  is  world-wide. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    233 

A  little  while  ago  I  told  you  that  we  had 
driven  back  the  forces  of  evil.  They  have  ral- 
lied and  come  forward  again,  not  quite  as 
strong,  but  more  desperate  and  more  frenzied. 

They  seek  now  to  embroil  the  United  States, 
and  the  whole  continent  of  the  old  dead  race 
that  fed  them  on  blood  by  magical  rites  ages 
ago,  that  continent  where  the  new  race  has 
to  be  born  when  this  prolonged  labor  is  over. 

Had  I  remembered  the  Law  of  Rhythm  I 
should  have  known  that  the  tide  of  evil  would 
flow  back  again,  and  that  we  should  have  to 
struggle  with  it  a  second  time.  It  may  even 
now  gather  fresh  force  and  renew  the  attack, 
a  little  weaker  still. 

The  evil  beings  whom  we  have  slain  are 
slain,  they  can  trouble  us  no  more  for  a  time; 
but  the  slain  are  few  beside  the  many  still  ac- 
tive. Help  us  with  your  thoughts. 

Many  of  our  friends  in  the  world  have  stag- 
gered and  grown  weary  during  the  last  few 
days.  Do  not  you! 

As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy  strength  be,  O 
World  that  we  struggle  for,  and  for  which  we 
shall  win  in  the  end  the  crown  of  peace  and 
brotherhood ! 


234    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  world  is  in  the 
throes  of  an  initiatory  ceremony.  The  trial 
by  water,  the  trial  by  air,  the  trial  by  fire — all 
these  must  the  world  go  through  before  it  can 
take  its  place  among  the  initiates  of  the  stellar 
hierarchies.  There  is  no  drawing  back  now, 
and  the  world  must  not  fail.  Should  it  fail 
there  would  soon  be  a  vacant  place  in  the  cir- 
cles of  the  Zodiac.  But  the  world  will  not  fail. 

Again  have  I  met  with  the  evil  being  of 
whom  I  wrote  at  the  beginning  of  these  let- 
ters. He  is  lashing  himself  in  fury  now,  drunk 
with  the  power  of  his  place.  Ere  his  hour 
draws  near,  he  is  hot  to  assert  himself. 

The  climax  is  approaching,  and  if  I  visit 
you  less  often  than  before,  it  is  because  I  can- 
not leave  my  place  so  often. 

Never  falter  in  courage.  Your  faith  shall 
be  the  evidence  of  things  still  unseen — as  it 
has  been  before. 

This  second  struggle  with  the  powers  of 
darkness  will  leave  us  stronger  and  leave  them 
weaker. 

/  know  many  things  which  I  cannot  tell  you, 
for  you  are  not  strong  enough  to  receive  them ; 
but  remember  this — the  Law  of  Rhythm  holds, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    235 

it  is  the  Law  of  laws,  and  after  this  storm  will 
come  a  corresponding  calm,  after  this  agony 
a  rest  in  the  quiet  of  love.  When  hate  has 
spent  itself,  then  love  can  have  its  way. 

Do  you  not  hate,  but  stand  steady,  merely 
withstanding  attacks.  Do  not  waste  your 
strength.  It  will  be  needed  by  and  by.  If 
we  use  you  sometimes  as  a  material  base  on 
which  to  plant  our  etheric  feet  for  a  greater 
spring  into  space,  remember  that  you  offered 
yourself  for  the  service  of  the  world,  and  the 
service  has  been  accepted. 

This  is  no  time  to  talk  of  reward,  but  the 
law  of  justice  is  behind  the  world. 

So  far  as  possible,  strengthen  those  who 
suffer  too  much,  and  we  will  strengthen  you. 
The  angels  you  saw  last  night  are  the  body- 
guard of  the  Masters'  servants.  As  thy  day, 
so  shall  thy  strength  be. 

I  will  give  you  a  formula  for  use  in  time  of 
stress  and  storm:  Reach  up  to  the  indwelling 
Spirit  and  repeat,  "For  her  ways  are  ways  of 
pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace." 

It  is  only  in  contact  with  mind,  with  desire 
and  with  matter,  that  the  Spirit  struggles  and 
suffers.  In  its  own  home  all  is  peaceful  and 


236    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

pleasant.  Reach  up  to  that  home  when  the 
storms  are  too  loud,  and  you  will  find  a  place 
of  silence. 

Do  not  let  go  your  hold  upon  the  body.  You 
could  no  longer  be  used  as  a  material  base 
should  you  loosen  your  hold  on  the  material, 
and  those  who  come  to  live  altogether  in  the 
astral  world  just  now  have  a  hard  time  at  first. 

Be  calm  and  poised  and  sure.  Be  not  a 
quicksand  but  a  rock. 

That  is  all  for  the  present. 

This  little  time  of  writing  has  rested  me  as 
well  as  you,  and  I  will  return. 

May  7. 


LETTER  XXXVII 

VEILED  PROPHECIES 

IF  you  were  less  easily  startled,  less  easily 
thrown  out  of  the  negative  condition  in 
which  only  you  can  take  down  my  words, 
less  easily  thrown  back  by  shock  into  your  nor- 
mal objective  consciousness,  I  could  have  told 
you  yesterday  that  the  Lusitania  had  gone 
down,  instead  of  merely  hinting  at  disaster. 

You  are  quite  right  always  to  stop  the  writ- 
ing the  moment  your  own  brain  begins  to 
work;  but  you  can  see  that  it  limits  us  in  the 
giving  of  definite  news. 

We  were  near  that  ship  when  it  went  down, 
several  of  us,  including  the  one  whom  we  call 
the  Beautiful  Being. 

Hold  steady  now.  That  is  the  only  advice 
I  am  offering  you,  save  only  to  remain  in 
America  for  the  present.  The  good  you  could 
do  in  England  now  is  outweighed  by  some- 
thing else  which  you  will  understand  before 
the  middle  of  August.* 

*  Extraordinarily  verified  on  the  fourteenth  of  Au- 
gust.— Editor. 


238    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

If  you  look  up  the  letter  in  which  I  told 
you  that  a  great  Being  of  Thought  had  passed 
along  the  German  line  telling  those  who  could 
understand  that  their  cause  was  lost,  you  will 
see  that  I  said  to  watch  for  the  result.  The 
result  is  this  desperate  and  frenzied  attack 
everywhere  by  that  nation. 

May  15th  is  a  significant  date.*  No,  I  tell 
you  no  more  than  that. 

The  powers  of  good  will  not  fail. 

You  will  have  disturbing  news  from  Europe 
before  long.  Hold  quiet  through  everything. 
We  have  done  and  are  doing  our  best. 

Thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  my 
friend  and  pupil.  *  *  *  Also  there  is  an- 
other thing  you  can  do  for  us.  *  *  * 

There  is  much  that  you  do  not  understand, 
but  that  we  understand.  The  road  of  initia- 
tion is  a  hard  road  for  all.  Love  one  another, 
you  who  try  to  tread  it.  It  makes  the  way 
easier. 

May  8. 

*Date  of  the  reception  by  Germany  of  the  United 
States  note  on  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitama,  and  also  of 
the  demonstrations  in  Italy  which  precipitated  the  entry 
of  that  country  into  the  war. — Editor. 


LETTER  XXXVIII 

ADVICE  TO  A  SCRIBE 

YOU  can  be  of  more  use  to  us  if  you  do 
not  allow  yourself  to  be  crushed  by  the 
sadness    of   the    world    at    this    crisis 
through  which  the  world  is  passing. 

Each  day  rise  to  the  plane  of  the  spirit, 
above  the  physical  world,  beyond  the  desires 
of  the  astral  world,  beyond  the  lower  stratum 
of  mind,  up  and  up  to  the  Source  of  all  life  and 
all  wisdom. 

Set  apart  some  time  every  day  for  this  ex- 
ercise. Use  the  Hebrew  formula  which  you 
have  used  before,  and  use  it  with  power,  in 
connection  with  the  yoga  practice  in  which  you 
are  versed.  This  combining  of  two  systems 
makes  for  strength,  because  it  avoids  the  limi- 
tation of  too  closely  identifying  the  Self  with 
one  race  or  one  period.  Occult  development, 
occult  power,  is  of  all  times  and  all  races.  The 
knowledge  of  the  new  race  about  to  be  ushered 
in  will  include  all  the  systems  of  the  past,  tak- 


240    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

ing  from  each  the  special  thing  in  which  it  sur- 
passes the  others. 

Do  not  sink  again  into  that  slough  of  de- 
pression from  which  I  called  you  this  day.  It 
is  not  necessary  for  you  to  die  a  thousand  times 
in  order  to  know  death.  It  seems  to  me  that 
you  have  gone  deep  enough  into  the  woe  of 
the  world.  Now  rise  to  a  corresponding  height. 

Your  sympathy  will  be  no  less  tender  if 
you  do  not  die  of  sympathy  every  day. 

Your  real  work  comes  after  the  war,  when 
the  world  can  and  will  listen  to  the  teaching  of 
brotherhood.  Do  not  perish  beforehand  is  my 
advice,  and  the  advice  of  my  Teacher  through 
me. 

The  Teachers  are  very  grave  in  this  crisis, 
but  they  are  not  crushed  to  earth.  They  know 
that  after  the  storm  comes  the  calm  and  their 
faith  has  survived. 

In  the  awful  depression  in  which  you  have 
been  sunk  for  the  last  few  days,  how  could 
you  help  anyone?  It  is  not  for  you  to  ask  help 
from  others,  but  only  from  us.  You  know 
where  we  are.  It  is  for  you  to  revive  the  droop- 
ing spirits  and  the  drooping  faith  of  those  who 
have  not  received  the  assurances  which  you 
have  received. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    241 

This  letter  is  not  a  reproof,  but  a  lesson. 
I  would  not  have  you  retire  to  a  selfish  peace 
above  the  tumult  and  stay  there,  forgetting  the 
world.  I  do  not  forget  the  world.  I  work  by 
day  and  by  night.  But  what  help  could  I  be 
to  these  war-shocked  souls  that  come  out  here 
should  I  weep  when  I  encounter  them?  No 
help  at  all  should  I  be.  Instead,  I  seek  to 
strengthen  them  with  my  strength,  to  encour- 
age them  with  my  hope. 

I  do  not  mean,  when  I  say  that  your  work 
begins  after  the  war,  that  you  can  do  nothing 
now.  Far  from  it.  You  can  do  much,  in  both 
worlds.  But  if  you  die  of  the  wounds  you  be- 
hold out  here,  if  you  are  caught  yourself  in 
the  whirlpool  of  despair,  how  can  you  draw 
others  out  of  it? 

I  cannot  repeat  too  often  that  this  war  is 
the  world's  initiation.  It  will  be  a  new  and 
an  enlightened  world  which  will  rise  from  the 
ashes  of  the  old  one — a  phoenix  of  a  world,  and 
I  want  you  to  rise  with  it. 

The  agony  cannot  endure  forever.  It  is 
too  intense  just  now,  which  means  that  the 
climax  is  approaching. 

When  I  told  you  that  the  issue  was  settled 
here,  I  did  not  mean  that  the  war  would  end 


242    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

in  a  day  or  two.  Study  cause  and  effect. 
Study  the  rise  and  fall  of  everything  accord- 
ing to  cyclic  law.  The  tidal  wave  must  spend 
itself  on  the  shore  before  it  subsides  again  into 
the  sea. 

Be  calm.  Keep  faith  with  those  whose  task 
it  is  to  uphold  the  faith  of  mankind. 

When  you  say  that  you  want  to  suffer  as 
long  as  the  world  suffers,  you  are  speaking  as 
our  pupil,  and  we  would  not  have  it  otherwise. 
But  remember  that  one  may  be  strong  in  suf- 
fering. We  would  not  have  you  shirk  the  ex- 
perience; but  master  and  use  the  experience, 
instead  of  letting  it  master  and  use  you. 

In  regard  to  America,  did  I  not  tell  you 
some  time  ago  that  there  was  "an  American 
on  guard  to-night,"  old  Abraham  Lincoln, 
who  renounced  heaven  that  he  might  watch 
over  and  guard  the  land  he  died  for?  Rest  in 
confidence  on  that  assurance. 

The  other  countries  that  you  love  are 
watched  over  also.  And  another  country 
which  you  do  not  love  is  watched  over,  lest  it 
wander  so  far  that  it  cannot  find  its  way  back 
into  the  fold  of  human  brotherhood.  There 
are  souls  in  that  country  who  are  keenly  aware 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    243 

that  she  has  gone  as  far  as  she  safely  may  with- 
out becoming  an  outlaw  among  the  nations. 
There  are  even  Germans  in  America  who 
know  it.  If  I  named  a  few  of  them,  you  might 
be  surprised. 

It  is  well  that  Germans  in  America  should 
feel  the  American  repudiation  of  this  latest 
piracy  on  the  high  seas.  Let  them  feel  it  to 
the  quick.  They  can  learn  in  no  other  way. 

Do  you  fancy  that  in  writing  through  your 
hand  this  book  to  be  published  after  the  war,  I 
am  impressing  my  thought  only  upon  you?  I 
am  impressing  others  besides  you. 

A  few  days  after  I  wrote  you  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  was  on  guard,  a  newspaper  cartoonist 
published  a  drawing  of  the  ghost  of  the  great 
Lincoln  standing  behind  President  Wilson. 
Did  you  think  it  was  a  mere  coincidence?  It 
was  not  a  mere  coincidence.  I  impress  my 
thought,  and  the  thought  of  the  Masters  be- 
hind me,  on  other  minds  than  yours.  I  am  a 
worker  in  the  astral  world.  To  impress  the 
minds  of  men  is  one  of  the  duties  assigned  me. 
I  go  here  and  there  where  I  am  needed ;  but  I 
have  not  written  anywhere  else  as  I  have  writ- 
ten through  you.  I  have  tried  to,  but  with  very 


244    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

indifferent  success.  An  accurate  amanuensis 
between  the  worlds  is  rare.  They  have  to  be 
trained  to  distinguish  between  the  thoughts  of 
the  dictator  and  the  thoughts  of  their  own 
minds,  objective  and  subjective,  also  between 
these  and  the  thoughts  of  irresponsible  entities 
who  like  to  have  a  finger  in  the  earthly  pie. 

You  wonder  why  I  do  not  tell  you  more 
stories?  I  will  tell  you  a  story  on  my  next 
visit. 

May  11. 


LETTER  XXXIX 

ONE  OF  THESE  LITTLE  ONES 

THE  story  I  have  to  tell  you  is  a  sad  one, 
but  we  are  writing  of  war. 

It  was  three  days  after  the  Lusitania 
went  down.  Leaving  the  plains  and  hills  of 
war-harried  France,  I  had  come  out  across  the 
waters  to  serve  where  service  was  most  needed 
at  the  moment. 

Drawing  near  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  I 
met  a  child-soul  who  wandered  up  and  down 
looking  for  something  which  it  could  not  find 
— a  girl-child  of  maybe  a  dozen  years,  with 
troubled  and  bewildered  eyes. 

"Can  I  help  you?"  I  asked,  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  so  that  she  ceased  her  restless  moving 
to  and  fro  and  paused  with  me. 

"I  have  lost  my  mother,"  she  said.  "Where 
is  my  mother?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  I  answered,  "but  we  will 
look  for  her." 

It  is  not  always  easy  for  a  bewildered  soul 
to  find  in  the  astral  world  another  soul  whom 


246    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

it  seeks,  though  it  is  sometimes  very  easy  for 
a  calm  soul  to  find  another.  As  on  earth,  the 
one  we  look  for  with  turmoil  in  our  hearts 
seems  to  be  held  away  from  us  by  invisible 
hands. 

Passing  along  with  the  child,  I  met  many 
others  equally  bewildered.  All  were  looking 
for  someone  or  for  something. 

"Why  are  we  here?"  asked  the  child.  "I 
thought  we  were  going  to  London." 

"Do  you  not  know  that  you  have  been 
drowned?"  I  askedX 

"Did  I  really  drown  when  I  was  in  the 
water?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  it  was  a  dream,  for  I  have  been 
asleep." 

"Yes,  you  have  been  asleep,  but  the  drown- 
ing was  no  dream." 

"Then  where  am  I?" 

"You  are  in  the  other  world." 

"The  other  world!  But  I  thought  the  other 
world  was  heaven." 

"Heaven  is  also  in  the  other  world." 

"You  do  not  mean  that  I  have  gone  to  the 
bad  place?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    247 

"No,  you  have  not  gone  to  the  darkest 
place/'  I  said,  "and  you  will  find  your  way  to 
heaven  by  and  by." 

"But  why  was  I  drowned?  Why  did  the 
ship  go  down?  It  was  such  a  beautiful  ship, 
and  we  were  so  happy  playing  about  the 
decks!" 

"You  were  drowned  because  Germany  is 
at  war  with  England." 

"But  why  should  they  drown  me?" 

"In  an  attempt  to  prove  that  England  does 
not  hold  the  seas." 

"But  what  has  that  to  do  with  me?" 

"Nothing,  my  child.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  you.  You  are  only  a  helpless  victim." 

"But  who  drowned  us?" 

"The  commander  of  a  submarine." 

"Is  he  a  very  bad  man?" 

"I  cannot  imagine  a  good  man  doing  it." 

"And  why  can't  I  find  my  mother?  Was 
she  drowned,  too?" 

"I  don't  know  yet." 

"Then  you  don't  know  everything?" 

"No,  I  don't  know  everything." 

"Are  you  an  angel?" 

"No,  I  am  not  an  angel." 


248    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"What  are  you,  then?" 

"A  man." 

"And  were  you  drowned,  also?" 

"No,  I  came  to  the  other  world  more  than 
three  years  ago." 

The  child  began  to  cry.  Did  you  suppose 
that  children  never  cried  after  death?  Dead 
children  often  cry.  Would  you  not  cry  at  the 
thought  of  being  drowned,  if  you  woke  and 
could  not  find  your  mother? 

I  too  could  have  cried  with  the  child,  for  I 
have  had  children  of  my  own,  and  one  of  them 
died  young. 

"Have  I  been  very  bad  without  knowing  it, 
that  I  should  be  drowned  like  this?"  asked  the 
little  girl. 

"No,  I  do  not  think  that  you  have  been  very 
bad." 

As  we  passed  across  the  rough  waters  we 
saw  the  corpse  of  a  woman  floating  face  up- 
wards in  the  pale  light.  The  child  could  see  it 
dimly,  though  not  so  well  as  I. 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  living  child  weeping 
over  the  soulless  corpse  of  its  mother?  If  that 
seemed  sad  to  you,  would  it  not  seem  sadder 
to  see  the  living  soul  of  a  child  weeping  over 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    249 

the  corpse  of  a  mother  whose  soul  was  absent? 
To  me  it  was  the  most  pitiful  of  all  sad  sights. 

"Come  away,  little  one,"  I  said,  "your 
mother  is  not  here." 

A  little  farther  on  we  saw  the  body  of  a 
child  also  floating  face  upwards  in  the  pale 
light.  I  knew  whose  body  it  was,  and  so  did 
the  child. 

"Why,  it  isn't  pretty  any  more!"  she  said. 

"Come  away,  little  one,"  I  repeated,  "come 
and  look  for  the  mother." 

But  she  seemed  held  fast  near  the  floating 
thing  in  the  water.  No,  it  was  not  pretty ;  but 
the  soul  beside  me  was  very  beautiful  for  all 
its  sadness. 

"What  will  become  of  it?"  she  asked,  awe- 
struck. 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Do  you  think  they  will  bury  it  somewhere?" 

"If  they  find  it  they  will  bury  it." 

"Could  you  not  tell  them  where  it  is?" 

"If  we  wait  to  look  for  them,  we  may  not 
find  the  mother." 

We  met  many  women  passing  to  and  fro 
over  the  water,  mothers  looking  for  their  chil- 
dren, wives  seeking  their  husbands,  some  seek- 


250    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

ing  their  own  lost  forms,  others  merely  pass- 
ing to  and  fro  in  bewilderment  and  grief. 

"It  is  very  sad  to  die,"  said  the  child. 

"It  is  not  always  sad  to  die,"  I  answered. 
"It  is  sometimes  beautiful  to  die." 

"Where  is  the  man  who  drowned  us?" 

"Why,  do  you  want  to  see  him?" 

"I  want  him  to  see  me." 

"He  will  see  you  his  life-long  in  dreams," 
I  said,  "whether  he  lives  to  be  old,  or  dies  to- 
morrow." 

Coming  toward  us  across  the  sea  was  the 
form  of  a  woman  wringing  vapory  hands. 

"Where  is  my  child?  Where  is  my  child?" 
she  was  saying  over  and  over. 

"Mother,  I  am  here!"  cried  the  little  girl, 
and  the  two  forms  melted  in  a  close  embrace. 

"I  have  found  you!  I  have  found  you!"  the 
mother  and  child  repeated  over  and  over,  as 
they  clung  together. 

I  remained  near  them  a  little  while,  for  I 
wanted  to  help  them  to  free  themselves  from 
the  sadness  of  their  fate. 

"Will  you  not  come  with  me?"  I  asked  them, 
when  they  could  listen. 

"But  where  shall  we  go?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    251 

"Away  from  here." 

"I  want  to  go  home,"  said  the  child. 

"We  are  homeless  now,"  the  mother  an- 
swered; "we  are  in  the  other  world." 

"Then  you  also  know  what  has  happened?" 
I  asked  her. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know,  I  know!" 

"Will  you  not  come  away  with  me?"  I  re- 
peated. 

"Are  you  an  angel?"  asked  the  mother,  even 
as  the  child  had  asked. 

I  told  her  who  I  was  and  what  I  was  doing 
there. 

"Is  there  no  help  for  us?"  she  asked. 

"It  is  to  help  you  that  I  have  come." 

"But  where  shall  we  go?" 

"Anywhere,  away  from  here." 

As  we  stood  talking  together,  another 
woman  came  toward  us  looking  for  a  lost  child ; 
another  child — not  hers — came  toward  us  look- 
ing for  a  lost  mother. 

I  am  willing  to  tell  you  that  I  did  not  well 
know  what  to  do  with  all  these  stricken  souls. 
Where  could  I  take  them  for  rest  or  comfort? 

The  whole  astral  region  around  the  earth 
is  full  of  sadness  and  crying.  Only  the  strong- 


252    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

est  and  most  resolute  souls  can  get  far  enough 
away  to  escape  the  gloom  and  the  horror.  And 
these  newly  arrived  ones  have  not  the  strength; 
for  you  must  know  that  in  this  world  we  go 
where  our  desires  and  our  thoughts  go,  and 
we  go  with  our  fears  and  our  griefs. 

I  led  the  mother  and  child  to  another  part 
of  the  world,  and  left  them  with  others  in  the 
care  of  two  ministering  older  souls  who  have 
given  themselves  to  this  sad  work.  But  as  one 
cannot  teach  a  child  the  differential  calculus, 
so  we  cannot  take  to  the  lofty  regions  of  peace 
those  beings  in  whose  hearts  there  is  no  peace. 

I  shall  ask  the  advice  of  the  Teacher  as  to 
how  much  I  should  tell  the  world  of  the  awful 
conditions  around  us. 

Even  the  restoration  of  peace  on  earth  will 
not  immediately  purge  the  astral  world  of  the 
sores  of  war.  You  think  that  you  suffer — 
and  I  know  better  than  anyone  else  how  much ; 
but  you  can  escape  into  the  material  world,  you 
can  walk  on  the  green  hills  in  the  sunshine,  you 
can  rise  occasionally  to  the  place  of  spiritual 
calm  above  the  conflict  astral  and  material. 
These  millions  of  grieving  ones  cannot  go  back 
to  the  physical,  and  few  of  them  can  yet  rise 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    253 

to  the  spiritual.  Their  immediate  future  is 
a  problem  for  the  greatest  of  the  Masters,  a 
problem  that  taxes  the  wisdom  of  the  Masters 
of  wisdom. 

Hold  steady,  you  for  whom  there  is  another 
day  of  anxiety  not  far  off.  Hold  steady;  for 
though  you  may  not  realize  it,  I  to  whom  you 
look  for  strength  find  also  strength  in  you. 
That  is  a  mystery  which  I  may  or  may  not  ex- 
plain by  and  by.  You  are  a  solid  platform 
from  which  I  can  spring,  when  I  need  the  force 
of  a  material  base.  I  shall  not  over-use  it. 

If  you  are  unable  to  stand  the  strain,  alone 
as  you  are  now,  you  may  communicate  with 
my  son ;  but  do  that  only  as  a  last  resort.  You 
must  learn  to  stand  alone. 

In  my  other  writing  the  strain  on  you  was 
far  less,  the  demand  on  you  far  less,  the  need 
of  your  strength  far  less.  You  could  not  have 
done  then  what  you  are  doing  now,  nor  could 
I  have  done  then  what  I  am  doing  now. 

Again  I  say,  hold  steady. 

The  wounds,  the  tortured  faces  which  you 
see  at  night,  the  pitiful  appeals  for  help  which 
you  try  to  answer,  are  only  typical  of  what 
we  see  and  try  to  help,  nightly,  daily  and 
hourly. 


254    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  HEAD  MAN 

I  have  used  the  actual  substance  of  your 
etheric  body  to  build  myself  an  optical  instru- 
ment, through  which  I  can  see  into  the  sun- 
lighted  world — your  world.  You  will  suffer 
no  injury  in  the  long  run  for  this  loan  that 
you  have  made  me.  Have  you  not  pledged 
yourself  to  the  service  of  mankind?  Mankind 
are  out  here  as  well  as  in  there,  and  the  eyes  I 
have  built  of  your  substance  have  enabled  me 
to  do  service  which  otherwise  I  could  not  have 
done. 

Count  that  with  your  good  karma. 

May  13. 


LETTER  XL 

THE  HEIGHT  AND  THE  DEPTH 

DO  not  lose  faith  in  the  future  of  the 
world. 

Have  you  not  studied  the  Law  of 
Rhythm?  Do  you  not  know  that  the  height 
is  equal  to  the  depth,  and  that  when  things  are 
at  their  worst  they  are  getting  ready  to  im- 
prove? 

Life  moves  rapidly  in  these  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury days.  A  thousand  years  ago  it  would 
have  taken  a  decade  to  accomplish  the  horrors 
of  the  last  ten  months.  Perhaps  the  recon- 
struction will  be  equally  rapid. 

Do  not  lose  faith  in  the  future  of  the  world. 

There  are  even  Germans  who  repudiate  the 
sinking  of  the  Lusitania!  All  is  not  well  in 
that  Empire,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  Em- 
pire. 

Be  poised,  and  await  the  issue. 

May  14. 


LETTER  XLI 

A  CONCLAVE  OF  MASTERS 

SOME  day  the  races  of  men  will  return  to 
the  love  which  they  have  now  forgotten. 
Some  day  German  and  English,  Italian 
and  Austrian,  French  and  Turkish,  will  all  sit 
together  at  the  banquet  table  of  life  and  drink 
to  the  health,  not  to  the  death,  of  one  another. 

And  that  day  is  not  so  far  distant  as  the 
present  hate  and  slaughter  would  indicate. 

There  is  peace  after  strife,  and  love  after 
hate,  and  sunshine  after  the  storm. 

Love  and  hate !  To  know  the  one  you  must 
have  seen  the  other.  Surely  I  need  not  tell 
you  this!  What  did  you  know  of  love  till  you 
had  been  hated? 

Love  and  hate  are  the  twin-born  children  of 
emotion. 

Some  day  men  will  look  for  their  enemies 
within  themselves;  some  day  men  will  fight 
the  evil  in  themselves,  and  then  they  will  not 
need  to  slay  their  brothers.  Some  day  love 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    257 

will  re-establish  itself  upon  the  pedestal  of  the 
world,  and  hate  will  return  to  the  shades. 

I  have  told  you  of  the  evil  beings  who 
brought  about  this  war.  There  are  also  loving 
beings  who  long  to  do  away  with  war  between 
brother  and  brother. 

To-night  in  the  spaces  above  the  world  there 
is  a  strange  quiet.  Is  it  the  quiet  before  the 
storm,  or  the  quiet  after  the  storm?  It  is  all 
rhythmic.  Be  poised  and  wait,  trusting  in 
God. 

Some  storms  clear  the  air.  The  present 
thunder  and  lightning  will  clear  the  air.  Yes, 
the  world  has  been  too  sultry,  and  the  atmos- 
phere had  to  be  broken. 

Do  not  cry  out,  do  not  weep,  do  not  laugh. 
Be  quiet,  and  trust  in  God. 

What  do  I  mean  by  God?  Look  deep  in 
your  heart  and  see  I  AM  THAT  I  AM. 

In  the  childhood  of  the  world  men  believed 
in  a  Power  beyond  themselves.  Now  in  the 
maturity  of  the  world  men  believe  in  a  Power 
within  and  beyond  themselves.  That  is  God, 
I  AM  THAT  I  AM! 

Seek  the  high  place  of  the  Spirit  and  prepare 
yourself  for  the  service  of  the  world.  The 


258    WAK  LETTERS  FKOM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Spirit  is  crucified  on  the  cross  of  the  world. 
Christ  clothes  himself  in  matter  that  he  may 
raise  it.  Love  wears  the  garment  of  hate,  that 
love  and  hate  may  become  one. 

What  do  I  mean?  Do  you  not  know  that 
love  and  hate  are  One  Thing — the  eternal 
opposites  that  complete  each  other? 

When  hate  rests,  love  comes  into  its  own. 
When  love  rested,  hate  came  into  its  own.  This 
night  do  hate  and  love  unite.  Find  out  my 
meaning  if  you  can.  Look  in  the  glass  of 
visions  and  find  the  picture  there. 

The  uniting  of  love  and  hate!  There  is  a 
neutral  point  where  the  two  join  hands. 

There  is  a  council  held  this  night  among 
those  who  serve  the  world — a  conclave  of  Mas- 
ters. At  what  hour,  you  ask?  Go  to  sleep, 
and  learn  the  hour.  If  you  are  still  enough, 
you  may  listen  at  the  keyhole.  If  you  are  not 
still  enough,  you  will  hear  nothing. 

Do  I  seem  to  write  strangely  to-night?  All 
things  are  strange  to-night,  if  by  strange  you 
mean  unusual. 

Be  still,  and  know  that  God  dwells  in  the 
hearts  of  all  men,  though  in  some  He  lies 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    259 

asleep.  For  the  God  in  you  will  sleep  until  you 
awake  Him. 

"This  is  my  commandment,  That  ye  love  one 
another,  as  I  have  loved  you." 

Love  your  enemies,  even  when  they  smite 
you;  for  the  God  is  asleep  in  those  who  smite 
with  hate. 

You  will  never  understand  your  enemy  by 
hating  him.  You  will  never  understand  the 
Masters  until  the  love  and  hate  in  you  unite. 

On  the  declaration  of  peace  your  love  will 
flow  out  again  to  your  enemy.  Can  you  not 
anticipate  the  event,  and  love  your  enemy  to- 
night? The  enemy  needs  love  when  he  shows 
least  of  it.  Be  still,  and  know  that  the  world 
is  the  footstool  of  the  Spirit. 

Hate  will  not  serve  you.  Hate  never  serves 
willingly.  Remember  the  words  of  the  Man- 
God,  "Forgive  them;  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do." 

Go  to  sleep  now,  and  listen  at  the  keyhole  of 
the  Masters'  council-room.  You  may  hear 
things  that  you  cannot  tell  the  world. 

May  14. 


LETTER  XLII 

A  LESSON  IN  THE  KABALA 

SHALL  I  repeat  to  you  what  you  saw  in 
your  vision  of  last  night — the  races  of 
earth  as  the  Sephiroth  on  the  Kabalistic 
Tree  of  Life? 

You  know  more  of  the  Kabala  than  I  do; 
but  you  would  never  have  known  the  Kabalis- 
tic correspondences  of  the  nations  had  they 
not  been  pointed  out  to  you  by  the  Teacher. 

It  is  true  that  Germany  (Geburah,  Mars, 
Severity,  Pachad)  has  become  so  extremely 
severe  and  Martian  that  the  welfare  of  the 
whole  Tree  is  threatened,  the  balance  is  upset; 
and  it  is  through  the  strength  of  the  United 
States,  shown  by  a  certain  Yetziratic  Path,  and 
through  the  prudence  of  the  United  States  in 
relation  to  another  Sephira  which  represents 
the  British  Empire,  that  justice  may  be  re- 
established between  Britain  and  Germany. 

The  Teacher  has  been  instructing  me  in  the 
Kabala. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    261 

And  you  also  see  by  that  vision  the  part 
which  the  United  States  has  to  take  in  the 
future  of  the  world — that  of  Chesed,  Mercy. 
That  is  the  keynote  of  the  Sixth  Race,  and 
Germany  thought  to  establish  it — the  Sixth 
Race — in  herself  by  blood  and  iron!  What 
folly  and  short-sightedness! 

You  need  not  tell  the  world  where  the  other 
races  were  on  the  Tree  of  Life  in  your  vision, 
save  that  the  Three  Supernals  are  not  repre- 
sented by  races  on  this  material  plane.  That 
much  you  may  state,  on  my  authority,  lest  some 
German  Kabalist  should  claim  for  the  Teu- 
tonic race  the  place  of  Kether.  No,  the  Three 
Supernals  are  not  represented  on  the  material 
plane. 

Watch  and  pray  that  America  may  be 
guided  aright.  So  far,  she  has  been  so  guided. 
The  great  soul  of  Abraham  Lincoln  was  with 
President  Wilson  during  those  days  of  retire- 
ment. Did  I  not  tell  you  that  he  had  renounced 
rest  that  he  might  watch  over  the  land  he  died 
for,  when  the  day  of  her  own  great  trial  came? 

I  shall  tell  you  no  more  than  my  judgment 
dictates,  day  by  day. 


262    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

It  is  well  that  you  were  able  to  rise  to  the 
plane  of  that  vision,  lest  you  should  become  too 
warlike. 

Now  pray  that  the  hands  of  the  President 
may  be  upheld,  and  that  his  soul  may  be 
strengthened  by  the  living  soul  of  America's 
greatest  son,  Abraham  Lincoln. 

The  future  is  on  the  laps  of  the  gods. 

May  15. 


LETTER   XLIII, 

THE  SECOND   COMING 

TO  those  who  have  suffered  in  this  war, 
either  from  wounds  of  the  body  or 
wounds  of  the  soul,  it  has  sometimes 
seemed  that  the  Christ  of  the  Christian  world 
had  turned  His  back  and  gone  away,  perhaps 
to  some  other  star  where  His  teaching  could 
be  understood  and  His  law  of  love  become  a 
real  influence  in  the  lives  and  hearts  of  men. 

But  the  Christ  who  died  to  teach  men  how 
to  live  has  not  left  the  world  in  this  its  hour  of 
trial. 

He  is  the  same  Christ  of  love  and  compas- 
sion ;  and  whoever  attempts  to  put  in  His  place 
a  Christ  of  hate  and  pitilessness,  blasphemes 
His  sacred  name,  and  will  one  day  pay  the 
awful  penalty  of  that  blasphemy. 

I  have  seen  face  to  face  the  Christ  who 
walked  the  world  in  Galilee.  Are  you  startled, 
you  Christians  who  hope  to  see  Christ  when 
you  die?  Why  should  I  not  see  Him?  Have 


264    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

I  not  served,  in  life  and  in  death?  Am  I  not 
serving  now,  to  the  best  of  my  individual 
power?  Yes,  I  have  seen  the  Christ. 

Look  for  Him  to  come  again  "in  the  clouds 
of  heaven  with  power  and  great  glory,"  though 
He  may  not  walk  the  earth  again  in  material 
form.  What  need  is  there  for  Him  to  walk 
the  earth  now  in  a  mortal  body,  when  more  and 
more  men  and  women  are  opening  their  spir- 
itual sight,  so  that  they  can  see  Him  while  still 
held  in  their  robes  of  flesh? 

I  have  told  you  of  the  Beautiful  Being  on 
the  battlefields,  and  now  I  want  to  tell  you  of 
the  Christ  on  the  Battlefields. 

He  was  never  afraid  of  pain,  that  son  of 
Light,  who  showed  the  way  of  pain  to  the 
shrinking  souls  of  men.  The  cross  of  Christ 
is  a  living  thing,  and  its  power  will  be  felt 
more  and  more  as  the  tired  world  recovers  it- 
self after  its  baptism  of  blood. 

When  the  half -gods  go  the  gods  arrive. 
When  Mars,  the  half -god,  the  war-god,  is  sent 
back  to  his  place,  the  god  of  love  and  pity  can 
make  Himself  seen  in  the  hearts  of  men  and 
women. 

They  are  wise  who  hope  for  the  Christian 
faith  a  renaissance  of  life.  It  had  grown  old 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    265 

and  indifferent.  Thinking  itself  saved,  it  had 
forgotten  to  save  the  world.  Feeling  itself 
secure,  it  let  its  security  be  surprised  by  Mars, 
the  war-god. 

Many  a  soul  in  its  last  hour  of  agony  has 
seen  the  Christ;  many  a  soul  in  France,  in 
Belgium,  in  Poland,  and  on  the  war-rocked 
sea  has  recognized  the  Friend  that  sticketh 
closer  than  a  brother. 

Many  a  mother  has  seen  in  true  vision  her 
dying  son  held  up  by  the  Christ.  Catholic, 
Protestant,  "free-thinker,"  they  all  have  called 
on  the  Son  of  Mary  to  comfort  their  sons  in 
the  last  dread  moment  and  beyond. 

From  the  shrieking  hell  in  Belgium  I  yes- 
terday saw  a  man,  a  common  soldier,  go 
straight  from  death  into  the  high  place  beyond 
even  astral  turmoil,  because  in  dying  he  called 
on  the  Christ  of  his  mother's  faith  to  take  him 
away  from  strife  to  the  heaven  of  peace  above 
the  world.  Many  have  gone  that  way  since 
this  trial  by  fire  began,  but  more  have  remained 
below.  Few  have  faith  enough  for  the  great 
flight. 

Whatever  religion  you  work  with,  let  it  in- 
clude the  Christ  and  the  cross  of  Christ !  What 
other  comfort  is  there  for  the  soul  that  feels 


266    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

its  pain  and  feels  the  awful  sum  of  the  world's 
pain  at  this  time?  Philosophy  is  good,  I  have 
called  myself  a  philosopher;  but  love  is  the 
highest  reach  of  philosophy,  and  Christ  is  the 
highest  reach  of  love. 

They  talk  of  a  new  religion,  as  if  the  love 
of  Christ  were  an  old  and  worn-out  love.  The 
love  of  Christ  is  reborn  whenever  a  soul  in  a 
flash  of  illumination  beholds  that  mystery  in 
his  heart. 

Worship  the  Christ  in  your  own  heart,  for 
He  is  there.  Worship  Him  in  the  heart  of 
your  friend,  for  He  is  there.  Worship  Him  in 
the  heart  of  your  enemy,  for  He  is  also  there. 
Then  slay  if  you  can,  when  you  know  whom 
you  seek  to  slay. 

A  new  spirit  has  entered  the  hearts  of  the 
soldiers.  They  fight  on,  but  they  have  been 
told  in  dreams  that  they  fight  their  brethren. 

Murderers  on  the  high  seas,  pirates  under 
the  eagle,  they  too  are  your  brothers.  "For- 
give them;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do." 
Conquer  them,  because  you  must;  but  do  not 
forget  that  they  are  your  brothers. 

The  Christ  who  hovers  over  the  battlefields 
carries  no  flag.  He  is  the  first  of  the  neutrals, 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    267 

because  he  loves  all,  even  the  pirates  under 
the  eagle  and  the  murderers  on  the  high  seas. 
The  Roman  soldiers  on  Golgotha  were  not  ex- 
ecrated by  Him. 

When  He  took  upon  himself  the  limitations 
of  the  flesh,  He  understood  limitation  by  trans- 
cending it.  We  can  never  understand  any 
limitation  until  we  transcend  it. 

Who  should  know  better  than  He  the  agony 
of  torn  flesh  and  broken  bones  and  mangled 
nerves?  Can  the  wounded  soldiers  teach  Him 
anything?  Can  the  betrayed  world  give  Him 
advice  in  settling  with  its  Judas?  "That  thou 
doest,  do  quickly." 

The  betrayer  of  the  world  has  hanged  him- 
self already  in  his  excess  of  zeal.  When  his 
effigy  was  burned  in  Rome,  do  not  think  that 
he  did  not  feel  the  fire.  He  felt  it.  The  su- 
preme War  Lord  has  had  one  moment  of  san- 
ity. Yesterday  I  saw  his  demon  go  snarling 
along  the  battle  line.  He  did  not  snarl  when 
I  met  him  first,  now  many  months  ago. 

If  I  could  only  make  you  understand  that 
I  speak  of  facts,  not  fancies!  I  have  seen  what 
I  describe,  as  clearly  as  you  see  the  table  be- 
fore you,  or  the  pencil  in  your  hand.  When  I 


268    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

say  that  I  have  talked  with  demons,  I  mean 
that  I  have  talked  with  demons.  When  I  say 
that  I  have  seen  the  Christ,  I  mean  that  I  have 
seen  the  Christ.  I  am  not  weaving  romances, 
nor  have  I  come  back  from  my  journey  among 
the  stars  to  compete  with  the  spinners  of 
tales.  I  write  to  reveal  what  otherwise  would 
be  unrevealed,  to  show  to  the  world  the  causes 
lest  the  world  go  wrong  with  the  effects.  I 
want  to  help  even  the  race  that  all  other  races, 
including  its  ally  the  Turk,  now  execrate. 

Only  the  charity  of  Christ  is  wide  enough 
to  cover  this  world-betrayal.  And  I  tell  you 
the  betrayers  were  egged  on,  inspired  and 
themselves  betrayed  by  the  personal  forces  of 
evil,  in  their  supreme  effort  to  put  back  the 
clock  of  civilization. 

But  the  Christ  cast  out  devils  and  raised  the 
dead.  Can  He  not  cast  out  these  devils  be- 
hind the  purpose  of  war?  Can  He  not  raise 
the  dead  to  the  region  of  peace  in  the  end? 
Can  He  not  raise  you  to  the  level  of  His 
charity? 

May  16. 


LETTER  XLIV 

POISON  GASES 

TO-NIGHT  I  shall  not  prate  to  you  of 
charity.  Instead,  we  will  speak  of  east 
winds  and  poison  gases,  and  the  demons 
that  ride  on  poison  gases. 

All  hell  is  again  let  loose  upon  the  world. 
It  is  worse  out  here  than  during  the  month 
before  the  war. 

For  eleven  days  I  have  not  been  with  you. 
I  have  had  no  time  for  eleven  days  to  spend 
even  an  hour  with  you. 

Were  you  strong  enough  to  hear  what  I 
could  tell,  you  would  never  publish  it  for  the 
world;  but  I  can  tell  you  much  which  you  are 
strong  enough  to  hear  and  which  the  world 
is  worthy  to  know. 

East  winds  and  poison  gases !  The  very  idea 
seems  infernal,  for  men  die  in  indescribable 
agony  from  the  gases  borne  on  those  winds 
from  the  German  camps  over  to  those  camps 
where  rational  human  beings  wage  war  by 


270    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

human  means.  But  poison  gases  are  demonic, 
and  demons  ride  on  them. 

I  have  seen  them  come  rolling  forward  in 
droves,  their  eyes  aflame  with  hate,  their 
mouths  horrible  with  rancor  and  triumph. 

Oh,  you  safe  there  as  yet  in  your  native 
land!  could  you  see  behind  the  trenches  of  the 
enemy,  could  you  see  what  lurks  in  the  air 
above  the  camps  of  the  enemy,  you  would  even 
pity  the  enemy.  I  may  tell  you  that  many 
out  there  are  stark  raving  mad. 

When  human  beings,  invoking  the  powers 
of  hate,  send  such  hell-fumes  to  choke  and  tor- 
ture their  fellow-beings,  they  have  ceased  to 
be  quite  human. 

I,  who  see  their  souls,  am  sick  with  horror. 
It  is  perhaps  well  that  you  are  alone  now,  for 
I  may  tell  you  things  which  you  can  best  en- 
dure alone. 

Were  it  not  for  the  work  which  you  have 
to  do  in  future,  were  it  not  for  this  work  and 
that  which  is  to  follow,  I  should  take  you  out 
and  away  from  the  world  for  good,  as  far  as 
this  life  is  concerned.  *  *  * 

But  you  must  endure  to  the  end,  as  I  shall 
endure  to  the  end;  for  you  have  work  to  do. 


WAK  LETTEES  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    271 

Those  who  say  that  all  is  well  in  Germany 
lie  in  their  throats,  or  they  are  hypnotized  by 
the  lie  that  holds  Germany  to  the  belief  that 
she  can  conquer. 

Could  hell  conquer  heaven  all  souls  would 
be  destroyed.  Should  hate  conquer  now  the 
world  would  be  broken  asunder. 

Hate!  You  know  not  the  meaning  of  the 
word.  Hate  of  England,  hate  of  America, 
hate  of  Italy!  The  race  that  inspired  this  war 
is  poisoned  to  the  last  molecule  with  hate. 
Babes  imbibe  it  with  their  mothers'  milk  and 
their  stomachs  turn  sour.  Children  see  it  in 
their  parents'  eyes,  and  shrink  away  in  fear  of 
their  own  source.  No,  you  know  not  the  mean- 
ing of  hate. 

On  the  poison  gases  borne  by  the  east  wind 
there  came  across  to  me  a  demon  with  no  eyes. 
Where  did  he  come  from?  From  some  sub- 
terranean hell  where  no  light  is,  and  therefore 
no  need  for  eyes.  Could  I  draw,  I  could  make 
you  see  him;  but  words  were  devised  to  ex- 
press those  things  which  are  known  in  the  ex- 
perience of  the  race,  and  no  one  who  has  seen 
such  things  has  used  language  to  describe 
them.  Groping  his  way,  that  astral  monster 


272    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

fastened  himself  upon  a  human  victim,  a  pris- 
oner in  the  hands  of  the  French — one  who  had 
spit  at  his  keepers  in  the  madness  of  hate. 

No,  I  must  not  tell  you  what  followed;  but 
the  astral  soul  of  the  prisoner  went  out  of  his 
body  and  remained  out. 

This  attempt  to  tell  the  world  what  I  know 
now  is  like  trying  to  play  Beethoven  on  a 
penny  whistle.  I  feel  as  a  mathematician 
would  feel  should  he  set  himself  down  to  teach 
addition  to  small  children.  I  dare  not  tell  you 
more  than  I  do,  for  you  could  not  contain  it. 

The  world  is  old,  and  the  world  deemed  it- 
self wise,  and  the  world  has  come  to  this! 

There  are  many  earnest  souls  who  desire  ex- 
perience in  the  astral  world.  I  have  heard  one 
say  in  your  presence  that  a  certain  attack  was 
"only  astral."  I  listened,  and  said  no  word. 

Do  you  know  what  the  astral  world  is,  you 
who  seek  knowledge  of  it?  The  astral  world 
is  the  world  of  feeling,,  the  world  of  emotion, 
the  world  of  love  and  hate.  The  astral  world 
at  this  time  is  so  thick  with  evil  passions  that 
one  could  cut  it  with  a  knife.  It  is  often  cut 
with  knives  now,  with  bayonets,  and  the  crowd- 
ing demons  suffer  from  contact  with  the  steel. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    273 

"Only  astral!"  The  astral  world  above  New 
York,  awful  as  you  know  it  to  be,  is  nothing  to 
the  astral  world  above  those  battlefields.  Keep 
away !  You  can  do  no  good  there.  If  possible, 
go  up  among  the  mountains  and  seek  in  the 
pure  breath  of  the  pine-trees  healing  from  the 
poison  of  the  astral  world  above  New  York. 
Go  there  and  stay  there  until  the  pressure  is 
exhausted.  You  can  do  no  good  either  where 
you  are. 

I  can  write  better  in  the  pure  air  of  the  pine 
woods.  Get  away  from  the  poison  fumes  of 
unneutral  New  York,  for  devils  ride  on  the 
winds  of  hate,  and  you  are  not  to  be  destroyed 
by  them. 

You  have  work  to  do  in  the  future. 

May  27. 


LETTER  XLV 

THE   SUPERMAN 

IN  one  of  the  upper  regions  of  the  astral 
world — not  in  the  region  of  pure  mind  but 
near  it — I  met  a  man  last  night  who 
passed  to  and  fro  with  his  head  bowed  in 
thought. 

"What  troubles  you,  friend?"  I  asked,  as  I 
stood  before  him. 

He  paused  in  his  restless  walk  and  gazed 
at  me. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  enquired,  listlessly. 

"I  am  a  Judge,"  I  answered. 

His  eyes  brightened  with  interest. 

"You  must  have  come  at  the  call  of  my 
thought,"  he  said,  "for  I  have  need  of  a 
Judge." 

"On  whom  do  you  wish  me  to  pass  judg- 
ment?" I  asked,  half  smiling  at  his  strange 
words. 

"I  would  like  you  to  pass  judgment  on  me." 

"And  your  offence?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    275 

"My  offence — if  it  is  an  offence,  and  on  that 
you  shall  give  your  opinion — is  having  led  a 
nation  to  its  undoing." 

"With  malice  aforethought?"  I  queried. 

"With  malice,  perhaps,"  he  answered,  "but 
not  in  the  sense  of  your  question.  I  never  be- 
lieved they  had  spirit  enough  to  believe  me." 

"You  pique  my  curiosity,"  I  said.  "Who 
are  'they?'  and  in  what  did  they  believe  you?" 

"They  are  the  Germans,"  he  answered,  "the 
Germans  whom  I  despised,  and  they  believed 
my  theory  that  man  becomes  supreme  by  do- 
ing what  he  wills  to  do." 

"And  the  devil  take  the  hindmost?" 

"Yes,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost." 

He  bent  on  me  his  sombre  eyes,  and  I  waited 
for  his  words. 

"What  a  folk  those  Germans  are!"  he  said. 
"Whatever  they  do,  they  do  too  thoroughly. 
One  cannot  trust  them  with  a  great  truth." 

"They  do  seem  to  have  systematized  you 
into  the  ground,"  I  answered. 

"I  wanted  to  make  them  gods,"  he  com- 
plained, "and  I  have  made  them  devils." 

"God  only  can  make  gods,"  I  said.  "Per- 
haps you  were  too  ambitious." 


276    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Humph!    Perhaps  I  was  too  confiding." 

"Hermeticism  is  safer,"  I  suggested.  "You 
told  them  far  too  much." 

"Or  far  too  little,  maybe." 

"In  how  many  volumes?" 

"Go  ask  the  librarians.  Not  the  foreign  ones 
— they  bind  my  works  in  packages  of  salable 


size." 


"And  how  can  I  help  you?"  I  asked. 

"Judge  me." 

"While  you  prosecute  and  defend  yourself?" 

"Who  else  is  fit,  either  to  prosecute  or  de- 
fend me?" 

"Go  on  with  the  prosecution." 

"I  have  corrupted  a  whole  people,  and  led 
them  to  their  ruin." 

"Elaborate  the  charge." 

"I  thought  to  remedy  their  spinelessness,  and 
following  me  with  characteristic  thoroughness, 
they  have  become  all  spine;  they  have  neither 
heart  nor  bowels." 

"Continue,"  I  said. 

"I  preached  Beyond  Man.  They  have  prac- 
tised below  man." 

"So  far,"  I  interrupted,  "you  have  prose- 
cuted them,  not  yourself." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    277 

"How  can  I  charge  myself  without  charg- 
ing them?"  he  demanded. 

"Then  I  will  step  down  from  the  bench,"  I 
said,  "and  talk  with  you  man  to  man." 

"I  am  glad  you  didn't  say  soul  to  soul." 

"Oh,  man  is  good  enough  for  me!  As  I  said 
before,  you  were  too  ambitious." 

"Yes,  too  ambitious  for  man,  too  sick  of 
man,  too  much  in  love  with  what  man  might 
become!" 

"We  have  come  already  to  the  defence,"  I 
said. 

"The  smell  of  the  court  is  still  about  you,"  he 
growled. 

"You  asked  me  to  be  your  judge." 

"Yes,  that  is  true." 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,"  I  said. 

He  smiled  a  sad  and  searching  smile. 

"You  seem  to  have  both  heart  and  bowels," 
he  observed. 

"And  you  have  been  too  long  alone,"  I  re- 
plied. "You  have  lost  your  gift  of  words. 
Shall  I  prosecute,  defend  and  judge  you?  You 
can  interrupt  me  whenever  you  like." 

"Go  on,"  he  assented. 


278    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"You  were  born  under  a  restless  star,"  I 
began.  "You  followed  heroes;  they  disap- 
pointed you  by  being  men.  Then  you  made 
self  your  hero,  and  that  disappointed  you  most 
of  all." 

"You  seem  to  know  all  about  me." 
"That  is  the  glory  and  the  shame  of  your 
greatness,  that  one  knows  all  about  you." 
"I  deny  it!    You  do  not  know  all  about  me." 
"What  is  it  that  we  do  not  know?" 
"You  do  not  know  how  I  loved  man!" 
"You  spoke  of  him  with  contempt." 
"That  he  might  rise  to  Beyond  Man." 
"Oh!    And  drown  the  children  on  the  Lusi- 
tania,  and  hack  his  way  through  Belgium,  and 
';urn  every  friend  against  him,  and  be  the  curse 
of  the  planet!" 

He  raised  an  arresting  finger. 
"You  are  speaking  of  the  Germans,"  he 
said. 

"They  are  the  only  ones  who  have  followed 
your  philosophy  to  its  logical  conclusion." 
"And  you  taunt  me  with  that?" 
"I  taunt  you  with  nothing.     I  am  stating 
facts.    It  was  you  who  taunted  them — to  their 
undoing." 

"I  only  preached  Beyond  Man." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    279 

"So  far  beyond  man  that  man  misunderstood 
you." 

"Is  that  my  fault?" 

"Whose  else?" 

"Not  theirs?" 

"Not  altogether  theirs.  You  hated  too 
much.  You  taught  them  to  hate  man." 

"I  taught  them  to  hate  all  that  was  not  Be- 
yond Man." 

"But  man  is  not  Beyond  Man,  and  so  you 
taught  them  to  hate  man." 

"But  they  themselves  are  not  Beyond  Man!" 

"They  aspire  to  be.  You  taught  them  to 
aspire  to  be.  They  believed  themselves  Beyond 
Man,  beyond  good  and  evil.  You  taught 
chemistry  to  babes  and  sucklings,  and  they 
have  blown  up  the  nursery  of  the  world." 

"I  wanted  only  to  teach  them." 

"You  should  have  begun  with  the  a-b-c." 

"And  what  do  you  think  is  the  a-b-c  of  Be- 
yond Man?"  he  asked. 

"The  a  is  love,  the  b  is  humility,  the  c  is 
truth,"  I  answered. 

"And  why  did  I  not  teach  them  love,  hu- 
mility and  truth?" 

"You  knew  not  love,  humility  and  truth." 

"I  knew  not  love?" 


280    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"You  knew  not  love." 

"And  I  knew  not  humility?" 

"Your  arrogance  is  a  by-word." 

"And  I  knew  not  truth?" 

"You  knew  but  half  the  truth,  and  half  the 
truth  is  not  truth,  as  half  an  apple  is  not  an 
apple." 

"Do  you  think  I  taught  them  falsehood?" 

"The  supreme  falsehood,  that  they  could  be 
Beyond  Man.  They  are  not  ready  for  Beyond 
Man." 

"But  man  must  be  surpassed!" 

"Man  must  surpass  himself,"  I  answered. 
"You  see,  there  is  a  difference." 

"What  should  I  have  taught  them?" 

"That  Beyond  Man  is  the  servant  of  man, 
not  the  bully  and  the  tyrant." 

"But  they  would  not  have  understood." 

"Be  not  too  sure  of  that.  Some  few  have 
understood  the  Son  of  Man." 

"Oh,  him!" 

"Whom  you  repudiated." 

"But  he  taught  men  to  be  slaves!" 

"A  good  servant  maketh  a  good  master,  and 
he  that  is  greatest  among  you  let  him  be  the 
servant  of  all." 

"Oh,  if  you  are  going  to  quote  Scripture — " 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    281 

"I  quote  the  Beyond  Man." 

"And  you  believe " 

"I  believe  that  you  repudiated  the  only  well- 
known  example  of  your  own  ideal." 

"And  you  also  believe 

"Yes,  I  also  believe  that  you  went  mad  be- 
cause you  saw  too  late  that  all  your  teaching 
was  a  lie.  I  believe  that  you  had  not  the  cour- 
age to  repudiate  yourself,  and  so  surpass  your- 
self;  so  surpass  yourself  and  become  yourself 
Beyond  Man." 

"Then  you  think  I  knew?" 

"I  know  that  you  knew.  I  know  that  you 
had  a  vision  of  Him,  that  you  saw  where  you 
yourself  had  failed  to  understand,  and  that  you 
would  not  acknowledge  your  own  new  under- 
standing— which  came  too  late." 

"You  know  too  much,"  he  said. 

"You  asked  me  to  be  your  judge,"  I  re- 
torted. 

"But  not  my  executioner." 

"You  have  been  your  own  executioner,  and 
the  executioner  of  your  people." 

"My  pedple!"     His  tone  was  scornful. 

"Did  I  not  say  that  you  had  no  love?"  I  de- 
manded. 

"And  what  do  you  now  bid  me  do?" 


282    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Go  back  to  the  earth,  and  teach  mankind 
how  man  can  surpass  himself.  Go  back  to 
the  earth,  and  teach  men  to  follow  the  car- 
penter's Son  whom  you  taught  them  to  despise. 
Go  back  to  Germany,  and  repudiate  yourself." 

"And  how  shall  I  go  back?" 

"In  another  body,  of  course,  a  clean  and 
wholesome  body,  which  you  are  to  keep  clean." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  know  very  well  what  I  mean!  I  have 
told  you  that  you  had  no  love.  You  had  only 
fastidiousness,  and  arrogance,  and  the  desire 
for  sensation." 

"You  have  set  me  a  hard  task,"  he  said. 

"Eternity  is  long,"  I  replied,  "and  the  new 
Germany  will  have  need  of  your  new  teaching." 

"Shall  I  thank  you?"  he  asked. 

"There  is  no  need.  It  is  I  who  thank  you 
for  not  appealing  from  my  decision." 

"Good  night,"  he  said. 

"Good  night,"  I  repeated. 

And  the  soul  of  Friedrich  Nietzsche  passed 
on.  Was  it  toward  the  gate  of  rebirth? 

June  1. 


LETTER    XLVI 

THE  ENTERING  WEDGE 

AFTER  our  writing  of  last  night,  in 
which  I  told  you  of  the  tortured  soul 
who  asked  my  judgment  on  a  course  of 
teaching  which  had  corrupted  a  nation,  I  went 
back  to  the  battle  line  in  France.  (The  Ger- 
mans cannot  sink  me  with  their  torpedoes.) 

Passing  slowly  along  on  the  German  side, 
I  saw  again  the  tall  majestic  form,  dark- veiled 
about  the  head,  which  I  described  to  you  in 
a  previous  letter. 

This  time  I  hailed  him,  without  waiting  for 
him  to  hail  me. 

"How  goes  your  work?"  I  asked. 

He  threw  back  the  veil  which  covered  him, 
and  I  saw  the  dark  and  splendid  face,  marked 
deep  by  thought  and  evil. 

"My  work  goes  as  it  goes,"  he  answered. 
"And  what  have  you  been  doing?" 

"Writing  to  the  world  this  evening,"  I  re- 
plied. 


284    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

He  laughed. 

"Have  you  been  writing  about  peace?" 

"Not  this  time.  I  have  been  writing  about 
a  conversation  I  had  with  a  great  and  troubled 
soul." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"You  know,  do  you?    Were  you  listening?" 

"Through  my  long-distance  telephone." 

"Brilliant  invention,  the  telephone,"  I  ob- 
served. "Did  you  inspire  the  invention?" 

"I?     Oh,  no!     I  worked  against  it." 

"And  why?" 

"It  is  not  well  that  man  should  know  too 
much." 

"But  when  man  makes  discoveries,  notwith- 
standing your  efforts  to  hinder  him,  you  at- 
tempt to  use  those  discoveries  against  him,  do 
you  not?" 

"Of  course." 

"You  interest  me,"  I  said.  "And  were  you 
interested  by  my  conversation  with  the  soul  of 
Friedrich  Nietzsche?" 

"More  interested  than  you  can  imagine,  un- 
til I  tell  you  why." 

"And  you  will  tell  me  why?" 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    285 

"There  is  no  reason  for  my  not  telling  you. 
I  am  frank  with  those  who  see  through  me." 

"Why  don't  you  teach  that  to  the  Ger- 
mans?" 

"Because  it  would  spoil  my  game.  I  want 
to  destroy  them  after  I  have  used  them,  and  if 
they  should  turn  frank,  they  would  be  so 
thorough  in  their  frankness  that  they  would 
disarm  the  indignant  world." 

"They  are  frank  enough  in  their  brutality," 
I  said. 

"Oh,  yes!  But  that  is  another  matter. 
Should  they  be  frank  in  their  repentance,  the 
world  would  forgive  them." 

"But  what  of  Nietzsche?"  I  questioned. 

"Only  this,  that  it  was  I  who  inspired  him." 

"You  did  your  work  thoroughly." 

"I  do  my  work  as  thoroughly  as  it  can  be 
done." 

"Tell  me  more,"  I  urged. 

"What  a  worker  was  lost  in  you,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "when  you  chose  good  for  your  stan- 
dard!" 

"But  I  am  an  excellent  worker,"  I  insisted. 
"I  have  even  balked  some  of  your  work." 

He  laughed,  a  quick,  sharp  laugh. 


286    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Don't  think  that  I  care  too  much  for  that," 
he  said.  "There  is  more  than  one  road  for  me. 
If  you  block  the  door,  I  can  go  in  by  the  win- 
dow." 

"And  how  did  you  go  in  to  Nietzsche?" 

"Sometimes  by  one  way,  sometimes  by  an- 
other. He  only  locked  his  door  against  man, 
and  you  see  I  also  am  Beyond  Man." 

"I  perceived  that  at  our  first  meeting.  He 
who  goes  beyond  man  must  make  the  choice 
between  good  and  evil." 

"There  is  no  fooling  you,"  he  said,  "and  so 
I  no  longer  try.  Yes,  it  was  I  who  inspired 
Nietzsche  to  preach  Beyond  Man  to  the  Ger- 
mans, who  could  only  choose  evil  when  they 
believed  themselves  strong." 

"And  what  do  you  get  out  of  it?" 

For  answer,  he  asked  a  question: 

"Did  you  ever  play  chess?" 

"Often,  in  many  lives,"  I  answered. 

"Did  you  have  an  interest  in  the  game?" 

"A  great  interest." 

"Did  you  play  for  stakes?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  interested  you?" 

"Why,  the  game." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    287 

"Of  course,"  he  said.  "That  is  how  I  en- 
joy my  game.  I  play  to  win,  if  I  can.  When 
I  do  not  win,  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  the 
game." 

"And  you  played  with  that  great  man's 
soul?" 

"As  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse.  I  found  in 
him  an  earnest  spirit,  with  a  sore  spot  in  his 
head  and  in  his  heart.  He  was  an  easy  one." 

"How  did  you  go  about  it?" 

"By  the  usual  method." 

"And  that  is?" 

"Flattery." 

"And  he  did  not  smell  a  rat?" 

"The  rats  were  perfumed.  He  is  an  aesth- 
ete." 

"Do  you  always  perfume  the  rats?" 

"It  isn't  always  necessary.  I  perfumed 
yours." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "  with  the  patchouli  of  peace. 
But  I  have  a  keen  scent." 

"Yes,  the  Others  have  taught  you  too  well." 

"Did  Nietzsche  ever  see  you  as  I  see  you?" 

"He  saw  my  distinguished  face,  and  he  felt 
the  thrill  of  my  power,  and  he  envied  and  de- 
sired to  be  like  me.  It  is  great  sport  when 


288    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

these  earnest  mortals  are  ambitious  to  emulate 
me!" 

"And  so  you  taught  him  Beyond  Man?" 

"Yes,  and  I  taught  him  to  despise  the  One 
who  was  really  Beyond  Man." 

"Then  you  are  not  really  Beyond  Man  your- 
self?" 

"My  head  is.  My  other  members  are  nearer 
the  earth." 

"Notwithstanding  the  dignity  of  your  pres- 
ence?" 

"Oh,  there  is  a  dignity  in  the  earth  and  in 
what  belongs  to  the  earth!" 

"Did  the  German  philosopher  ever  know  you 
for  what  you  are?" 

"Yes,  toward  the  end,  but  then  it  was  too 
late  to  undo  my  work." 

"Then  also  at  the  end,"  I  exclaimed,  "he  saw 
the  two  forms  of  Beyond  Man,  you  and  the 
Christ!" 

"Yes,  he  saw.    The  seeing  drove  him  mad." 

"And  you  have  no  remorse  for  your  work?" 

"Remorse?    What  is  that?" 

"Remorse  is  an  emotion  which  men  feel 
when  they  are  conscious  of  having  done  evil." 

"An  emotion  that  men  feel,"  he  repeated. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    289 

"But  I  only  feel  those  emotions  of  men  which 
give  me  pleasure  in  the  feeling." 

"Such  as " 

"You  are  really  too  curious  and  inquisitive!" 

"Granted,  my  curiosity  and  my  inquisitive- 
ness,"  I  said.  "But  it  interests  me,  this  labor  of 
a  lifetime,  a  man's  lifetime,  to  make  him  an 
instrument  through  which  all  this  could  be  pro- 
duced," and  I  indicated  by  a  gesture  the  battle 
line  beneath  us. 

His  eyes  were  brilliant  with  fire  as  he  an- 
swered : 

"What  is  the  lifetime  of  a  man  in  compari- 
son to  the  glory  of  all  this  ?  One  might  labor  a 
thousand  years  and  produce  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  this!" 

"It  pleases  you  then,  this  slaughter?" 

"What  a  trifling  question!  It  gratifies  me, 
glorifies  me,  exalts  me — all  this  carnage  of 
battle  brought  forth  by  me  and  my  kind." 

"And  did  you  have  all  this  in  mind  while 
you  were  preparing  one  man  to  corrupt  a  na- 
tion by  his  writings?" 

"Yes.  He  was  the  one  perfect  instrument. 
None  other  could  have  served  our  purpose  so 
well — ambitious,  dissatisfied,  aristocratic,  ar- 


290    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

rogant,  unloving  in  the  broader  sense,  capable 
of  infatuation  and  hence  of  disenchantment, 
and  last  but  not  least,  with  eyes  open  to  the 
vision." 

"The  vision  of  you?" 

"Yes.  He  saw  me  first  in  dreams,  and  ad- 
mired me,  and  desired  to  emulate  me." 

"And  then  you  spoke  to  him  of  Beyond 
Man?" 

"Yes,  and  I  used  the  old  arguments  that 
women  were  of  small  account;  that  the  love 
of  woman  stood  in  man's  way;  that  woman  en- 
slaved man  unless  he  enslaved  her;  that  Na- 
ture was  the  devil,  not  the  Great  Mother,  and 
so  was  to  be  combatted  as  far  as  possible ;  that 
man  rose  to  Beyond  Man  by  denying  all  that 
could  influence  him,  including  Nature,  and  by 
asserting  whatever  gave  him  freedom,  such  as 
his  own  superiority  to  all  other  beings,  his 
mastery  of  them,  his  mastery  of  his  own 
thought,  his  mastery  of  good  and  evil,  of  fact 
and  falsehood." 

"A  fine  combination  of  fact  and  falsehood, 
that  teaching  of  yours,"  I  said. 

"Of  course,"  he  answered;  "but  what  would 
you?  Truth  alone  could  never  have  produced 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    291 

this."  And  he  swept  with  his  long  arm  the 
line  of  battle  beneath  us. 

"And  what  else  did  you  teach  your  chosen 
disciple?"  I  asked. 

"I  taught  him  all  that  he  taught  the  world. 
Whenever  he  drove  a  woman's  face  from  his 
heart,  I  scored  a  point  and  he  thought  himself 
nearer  Beyond  Man.  Whenever  he  swelled 
with  pride  and  superiority,  I  scored  a  point 
and  he  felt  himself  nearer  Beyond  Man. 
Whenever  he  read  the  Gospels  and  sneered  to 
himself  at  the  humility  of  the  so-called  Son  of 
Man,  I  scored  two  points — one  against  him 
and  one  against  your  Christ." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  "for  enrolling  me  with 
the  followers  of  the  Crucified  One.  I  am  such 
a  follower." 

He  ignored  my  last  remark,  and  proceeded: 

"I  encouraged  his  wish  to  produce  a  new 
ideal  of  a  leader,  a  new  Christ,  an  Antichrist, 
a  hard-faced  German  Christ,  who  should  not 
win  men  by  love  and  compassion,  but  by 
cruelty  and  hardening.  Oh,  I  have  done  that 
work  well!  Many  a  German  has  exalted  my 
ideal  to  the  place  of  the  Son  of  Mary.  Many 
a  German  has  put  me  in  place  of  the  Sun-God, 


292    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

and  hailed  me  as  Beyond  Man,  though  he  was 
too  cowardly  to  hail  me  frankly  as  Antichrist. 
Instead,  he  added  my  attributes  to  Christ  and 
called  us  by  one  name,  and  by  that  name  he 
sought  to  destroy  all  pity  and  compassion,  both 
in  himself  and  in  others,  sought  to  destroy  all 
love  that  stood  in  the  way  of  his  becoming  like 
me.  It  was  I  who  taught  him  to  exalt  the 
cross  as  a  symbol  of  cruelty,  of  sacrifice  to 
himself,  and  not  of  himself  for  the  love  of 
man." 

He  paused,  and  gazed  out  toward  the  stars 
that  shone  serenely  above  us. 

"You  seem  to  me,"  I  said,  "to  be  yourself 
conscious  of  the  superiority  of  Christ  to  Anti- 
christ." 

Again  he  ignored  my  remark,  and  continued 
the  line  of  his  own  thought. 

"What  intellectual  pleasure  it  has  given  me, 
this  transforming  of  a  Christian  nation  into 
monsters  of  egotism  and  cruelty  to  all  things 
not  their  own!  The  foreigner  was  to  be  hated, 
despised,  used,  ridiculed,  and  whenever  pos- 
sible insulted.  I  taught  them  that  such  were 
the  ways  of  Beyond  Man,  that  so  was  man 
surpassed." 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    293 

"But  why  do  you  tell  all  this  to  me?"  I  asked. 
"Why  do  you  thus  lay  your  cards  upon  the 
table,  when  you  know  that  I  hold  a  better 
hand?" 

The  eyes  he  turned  to  me  were  smouldering 
lakes  of  flame. 

"Because  I  envy  you,"  he  said. 

"Is  that  some  new  and  more  subtle  attack 
upon  me  and  the  principles  I  stand  for?" 

The  dark  one  laughed  again,  his  sharp  and 
mirthless  laughter. 

"Frankly,  no,"  he  said.  "You  no  longer 
amuse  me  as  an  opponent." 

"Which  means " 

"That  I  throw  up  the  game  in  weariness — 
this  is,  for  the  present.  Already  the  souls  I 
deluded  are  weary  of  me  and  my  teaching. 
They  have  seen  a  new  light — some  of  them." 

"Perhaps,"  I  said,  "they  have  seen  the  light 
of  the  Christ,  the  true  Beyond  Man." 

"Perhaps,"  he  repeated. 

"And  have  you  seen  it,  too?" 

"Faugh!"  he  said.  "Are  you  ambitious  to 
convert  the  devil?" 

"Ah,  no!" 

Suddenly  he  turned  to  me: 


294    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

"Will  you  take  me  for  a  pupil?" 

"Again,  no/'  I  answered.  "You  will  make 
that  request  of  some  good  woman,  with  a  bet- 
ter chance  of  deceiving  her." 

"So  you  know  all  the  tricks?" 

"My  Teacher  has  taught  me  much  regarding 
the  ways  of  your  kind." 

"Then  I  bid  you  good  evening,"  he  said,  and 
disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

World  for  which  I  write,  I  am  telling  you 
these  things  that  you  may  be  armored  with 
knowledge.  When  Satan  asks  you  to  con- 
vert him,  beware  lest  he  convert  you.  When 
Satan  points  to  Beyond  Man,  even  to  Christ, 
be  sure  that  his  Christ  is  not  Antichrist;  be 
sure  He  is  full  of  compassion,  that  His  heart 
bleeds  for  the  woes  and  weakness  of  the  world, 
that  His  crown  of  thorns  is  the  mark  of  His 
sacrifice  for  man,  and  not  merely  a  becoming 
ornament.  For,  as  He  said: 

"By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my 
disciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another." 

And  also : 

"Take  heed  that  no  man  deceive  you.  For 
many  shall  come  in  my  name,  saying,  I  am 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    295 

Christ,  and  shall  deceive  many,  *  *  *  for 
there  shall  arise  false  Christs,  and  false 
prophets,  and  shall  show  great  signs  and  won- 
ders, insomuch  that,  if  it  were  possible,  they 
shall  deceive  the  very  elect." 

June  2. 


LETTER  XL VII 

THE  NEW  BROTHERHOOD 

I  WANT  to  speak  of  the  new  race,  the  com- 
ing race.  The  world  is  big  with  child, 
and  the  present  generation  will  look  with 
wonder  into  the  clear  eyes  of  the  infant  that 
shall  redeem  its  parent. 

Pin  your  faith  to  the  standard  of  the  new 
race,  work  for  it,  make  the  garments  that  it 
shall  wear,  and  be  ready  for  its  coming. 

Already  you  are  in  touch  with  those  who 
will  help  in  its  training,  who  will  be  its  teach- 
ers and  guides.  Give  yourself  also  to  the 
Great  Work  that  is  planned  for  America  in 
the  coming  days.  No,  you  need  not  spend  all 
your  time  there;  but  do  not  remain  away  too 
long.  Come  and  go,  that  going  away  you  may 
receive  new  impressions,  and  that  coming  back 
you  may  bring  the  romance  of  older  lands  to 
entertain  and  inspire  the  new  land. 

But  be  ever  loyal  to  the  new. 

In  the  untrodden  wilderness   of  America 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    297 

there  is  strength  that  shall  renew  you  from 
time  to  time.  The  cities  of  America  will  be 
redeemed  by  the  wilderness.  The  cities  are 
too  worldly.  They  have  forgotten  God.  In 
the  open  air,  under  the  open  sky,  the  message 
may  be  received  by  the  awakened  soul. 

Send  the  children  out  to  the  wilderness  to 
drink  from  the  uncontaminated  springs.  The 
water  that  flows  through  lead  pipes  may  re- 
fresh the  body ;  but  the  water  of  mountain 
springs  refreshes  the  soul. 

Behind  the  veil  of  Nature  is  the  face  of  the 
Great  Mother,  and  though  she  does  not  al- 
ways smile,  yet  her  eyes  are  full  of  dreams 
and  mysteries.  Nature  is  not  the  'devil.  The 
devil  is  ever  at  war  with  Nature.  Nature  is 
Isis,  the  Mother.  Do  not  listen  to  the  blas- 
phemers. They  have  confused  the  offices  of 
Isis  and  of  Typhon.  It  is  Isis,  Nature,  which 
shall  bring  forth  Horus.  Go  back  to  Nature 
and  ask  her  for  her  message.  She  waits  in 
the  silence  of  the  woods,  and  the  voice  of  the 
brook  is  her  whisper;  when  the  wind  stirs  in 
the  trees  it  is  the  rustling  of  her  garments. 
The  Mother  is  coming,  O  children  of  the  new 
race!  In  her  arms  you  shall  know  refreshing 


298    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

rest,  and  in  her  eyes  shall  you  read  the  love 
that  knows  no  selfishness,  the  bliss  of  self- 
giving. 

Too  long  have  you  dwelt  in  cities,  forgetting 
the  Mother  who  bore  you.  Too  long  have  you 
lived  without  the  magnetism  of  the  kind  earth 
in  contact  with  your  naked  feet.  Too  long 
have  you  trodden  the  dead,  stony  and  unmag- 
netic  streets,  that  take  from  you  but  give  noth- 
ing. Go  back  to  the  woods  and  the  streams. 
Read  your  destiny  in  the  eyes  of  the  stars 
themselves — not  merely  on  a  printed  chart. 
Jupiter  has  a  message  for  you  which  he  will 
give  only  face  to  face,  and  so  has  the  gentle 
Venus  and  the  eager  Mars.  Go  to  them  for 
your  lessons,  in  the  quiet  of  the  hill-top  alone 
with  the  Mother. 

Do  not  set  up  your  temple  in  the  market- 
place. Let  your  cathedral  be  the  aisles  of  the 
forest. 

Go  to  the  city  when  you  must,  for  it  is  al- 
ways well  to  know  the  opposite.  The  cathe- 
dral is  stiller  after  the  voice  of  the  mart. 

Give  honor  where  honor  is  due,  to  those  who 
have  led  the  children  forth  to  learn  the  mys- 
teries of  the  primeval  life.  You  grown-ups 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    299 

are  only  taller  children.  Dance  in  a  ring  round 
the  mulberry  bush  or  round  the  camp-fire.  In 
the  smell  of  burning  wood  the  visions  may 
come,  as  I  wrote  you  once  before  of  your  wood- 
fires  in  Paris.  But  what  is  a  wood-fire  in  a 
Paris  grate  compared  with  a  camp-fire  in  the 
woods?  Yes,  I  was  there  the  other  night,  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  gathering,  and  I  enjoyed 
it,  too. 

My  greetings  to  the  Chief! 

The  salvation  of  America  lies  in  this  wild- 
wood  movement.  Movement !  Well  may  you 
call  it  that.  It  is  stirred  by  the  very  forces  of 
the  earth  herself;  it  is  inspired  by  the  race- 
spirit;  it  will  go  on  and  on,  in  ever-widening 
circles. 

Whoever  puts  a  stone  in  the  way  of  this 
work  will  stumble  over  it  himself.  Whoever 
brings  Satanism  into  this  movement  will  be 
devoured  by  the  demonic  forces.  There  will 
not  be  enough  left  of  him  to  grease  two  sticks 
for  the  camp-fire. 

Rest  you  in  peace.  We  watch,  and  with  us 
the  souls  of  all  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands and  millions  of  native  Americans,  who 
cannot  go  on  to  their  rest  until  they  have 


300    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

passed  on  the  torch  of  the  Nature  mysteries 
that  were  their  heritage  from  their  remote  an- 
cestors. 

They  may  be  despised  by  those  who  de- 
spoiled them;  but  their  forgiveness  shall  re- 
deem you,  O  America  of  the  new  race! 

Do  you  not  know  that  many  of  those  who 
made  their  escape  into  the  rest  of  the  "happy 
hunting  ground"  are  already  coming  back  to 
incarnation  in  the  land  they  loved  before? 
Look  at  the  high  cheek-bones  of  many  of  the 
children,  look  at  the  eagle  eyes  and  the  straight 
taut  forms. 

O  America,  you  did  a  great  wrong  once  in 
the  pursuit  of  your  destiny!  Yes,  you  did. 
Now  strive  to  atone.  Let  the  reincarnated  red 
children  play  in  the  wild  woods,  teach  them  the 
old  code  of  honor  and  courage,  and  they  will 
work  hand  in  hand  with  the  reincarnated  souls 
that  came  by  way  of  Europe,  hand  in  hand 
shall  they  stand  together  in  the  Woodcraft 
Brotherhood. 

My  salutations  to  the  Chief! 

July  9. 


LETTER  XL VIII 

IN  THE  CRUCIBLE 

I  AM  still  profoundly  interested  in  the  land 
that  gave  me  birth.  There  are  dark  days 
ahead  for  her,  and  the  great  soul  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  is  very  near  to  the  helm  of  State 
at  this  moment,  when  peace  and  war  hang  in 
the  balance  and  the  action  of  a  day  may  de- 
cide the  question. 

No  irreparable  injury  must  overtake  this 
land.  It  is  the  great  pioneer  of  race  freedom. 
As  I  told  you  months  ago,  one  of  America's 
hands  threatens  the  other,  and  both  threaten 
the  whole  body. 

May  she  keep  peace  so  long  as  she  can  have 
peace  with  honor !  But  if  the  dark  day  comes, 
may  she  face  it  with  squared  shoulders;  and 
if  her  foes  be  also  those  of  her  own  household, 
it  will  not  be  the  first  time.  A  man  once 
prayed  to  be  saved  from  his  friends,  declaring 
that  he  could  deal  with  his  enemies  himself. 


302    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

The  stillness  of  the  Germans  in  America  at 
this  moment  is  potent  with  danger.  If  the 
hour  comes  when  drastic  action  is  necessary, 
they  should  be  invited  to  return  into  the  fold 
of  their  naturalization,  and  those  who  refuse 
should  be  dealt  with  severely,  even  to  deporta- 
tion. There  yet  remains  one  country  which 
might  receive  them  for  transportation  to  that 
Fatherland  they  left — in  quest  of  the  freedom 
which  they  have  now  abused  and  betrayed. 

The  world  is  in  the  crucible,  and  Satan  is  in 
the  laboratory  with  all  his  cohorts.  Our  labor 
is  to  stand.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  stand 
steady. 

Be  calm,  and  trust  in  the  Motherland  that 
shall  yet  give  birth  to  the  new  race,  the  syn- 
thesis of  races. 


LETTER  XLIX 

BLACK  MAGIC  IN  AMERICA 

YOU  have  seen  pretty  clearly  the  meth- 
ods employed  by  the  evil  forces  to  balk 
progress,  to  destroy  the  work  of  cen- 
turies, to  destroy  the  workers  for  the  future, 
and  to  frighten  away  those  who  seek  to  inter- 
fere with  this  maliciousness. 

Notice  that  none  of  this  is  constructive  work. 
It  is  all  destructive,  all  tearing  down.  Wars  of 
construction  have  been  engineered  by  angels; 
but  this  is  not  a  war  of  construction. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  a  few  of  the  things 
against  which  the  new  race  in  America  will 
have  to  guard  itself.  As  always  where  the 
forces  of  progress  are  strong,  the  opposition 
is  strong.  I  have  written  enough  about  the 
good  influences  of  this  new  birth;  but  I  want 
to  give  a  few  warnings,  to  analyze  a  few  in- 
fluences which  are  of  a  destructive  character. 

There  is  developing  in  America  a  great 
group  of  people  who  seek  to  gain  control  of 


304    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

the  desire-nature  and  the  will  of  others,  that 
they  may  use  them  for  their  own  purposes. 
These  people  are  not  all  in  one  place,  they  are 
not  organized  into  one  body  but  into  many 
bodies,  and  some  of  them  are  working  quite 
independently.  But  in  the  astral  world,  and 
in  the  language  of  us  who  work  in  that  world, 
they  are  known  as  a  "group." 

They  teach  to  those  who  will  pay  them, 
either  in  money  or  in  service,  certain  rules  for 
controlling  the  mind  of  self  and  of  others. 
They  teach  the  rudiments  of  astral  knowledge 
to  the  many,  and  they  teach  more  advanced 
principles  to  the  few.  Some  of  their  teachings 
are  true,  some  of  their  teachings  are  false;  but 
there  are  few  among  them  who  undertake  any 
real  discipline  of  character  with  their  students. 
As  one  profound  teacher  has  said,  for  every 
step  in  psychic  development,  three  steps  should 
be  taken  in  the  development  of  character. 

I  need  not  name  those  who  are  most  crim- 
inally active  in  teaching  the  formulas  of  black 
magic  to  men  and  women  who  are  utterly  un- 
fit to  be  trusted  with  that  knowledge. 

The  question  will  naturally  arise  in  the  mind 
of  the  reader,  What  is  black  magic?  I  think 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    305 

I  have  given  a  similar  definition  before,  but  you 
may  restate  it  thus : 

Black  magic  is  an  attempt  to  gain  control 
over  the  will  or  the  astral  or  the  mind  of  one's 
fellows,  through  means  other  than  the  normal 
physical  or  the  legitimate  mental  influence  by 
word  or  pen;  be  it  through  the  use  of  the  ele- 
mentals  of  nature,  artificial  elementals,  or  one's 
own  mental  or  elemental  nature. 

Black  magic  may  be  deliberately  used  to  in- 
fluence, or  black  magic  may  be  deliberately 
used  to  injure;  and  its  votaries  often  employ 
the  substances  of  the  body  of  the  victim, 
through  which  to  gain  sympathetic  control  of 
his  astral  and  etheric  nature. 

I  want  to  say  to  those  who  think  it  smart  or 
amusing  to  fool  with  these  things:  Beware  of 
any  man  or  of  any  woman  who  by  normal  or 
abnormal  means  seeks  to  get  possession  of  the 
fluids  of  your  body,  especially  the  blood  and 
the  other  vital  fluids. 

I  shall  not  go  into  detail  here.  Those  who 
accept  my  warning  owe  me  no  thanks;  those 
who  disregard  my  warning  do  so  at  their  own 
peril. 

It  gives  me  no  amusement  thus  to  thrust 
myself  between  the  evil  forces  and  their  vie- 


306    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

tims.  By  so  doing  I  draw  down  upon  myself 
the  rage  of  those  forces  that  I  thwart  so  far 
as  I  can. 

Be  it  so!  I  am  competent  to  deal  with  them. 
And  I  want  here  to  notify  anyone  who  thinks 
to  destroy  my  work,  or  to  destroy  those  who 
with  self-abnegation  and  selfless  courage  are 
helping  me  in  the  work  of  trying  to  save  my 
country  from  the  forces  of  hell  which  are  now 
ravaging  Europe — I  want  to  notify  any  evil 
magician  who  is  interested  in  this  matter,  that 
if  he  gets  in  the  way  of  my  resolve  it  will  be 
he  who  will  suffer  and  not  I. 

The  ring  which  I  and  the  Masters  behind 
me  draw  round  our  workers  can  be  passed  with 
evil  intent  only  at  the  peril  of  the  one  who 
passes. 

This  is  no  threat  to  use  evil  magic.  We  do 
not  use  evil  magic.  But  we  know  how  to  de- 
flect a  malicious  current  from  its  chosen  victim, 
so  that  it  returns  with  overwhelming  force 
upon  its  own  source. 

And  I  also  want  to  say  to  those  who  in  their 
ignorance  or  wantonness  allow  themselves  to 
be  used  as  catspaws  to  draw  the  devil's  chest- 
nuts from  the  fire,  that  fire  will  burn,  and  that 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    307 

the  devil's  hot  chestnuts  stick  to  the  fingers. 
This  is  an  unpleasant  subject.    I  will  now 
leave  it. 

Let  me  talk  to  those  who  are  ignorant  of 
these  matters,  and  most  people  are  ignorant — 
even  those  who  have  "studied  psychism." 

Many  an  innocent  (or  half -innocent)  soul 
has  been  driven  nearly  insane  by  the  pressure 
of  the  evil  thoughts  of  others,  by  the  will- 
driven  thoughts  of  others. 

Let  me  advise  such  not  further  to  weaken 
themselves  by  fear,  but  to  strengthen  them- 
selves by  prayer. 

I  have  said  that  there  is  a  god  and  a  devil 
in  every  one  of  you.  Turn  to  the  god  for 
protection  from  the  devil.  If  there  were  no 
devil  in  you,  the  devils  of  others  could  not 
harm  you.  Remember  that. 

Set  your  own  devil  to  serve  your  own  god. 

If  you  want  to  use  signs  and  symbols,  medi- 
tate on  the  cross  of  Christ.  The  cross  of  Christ 
is  profound  enough  for  a  lifetime's  meditation. 

Do  not  use  evil  magic  to  protect  yourself 
against  evil  magic.  Call  on  the  god  within 
to  send  evil  back  to  its  source. 


308    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Protect  yourself  before  sleep  by  prayer  to 
your  god  for  protection.  The  evil  workers  can 
sometimes  reach  your  soul  in  sleep  when  they 
cannot  reach  you  while  awake.  The  child's 
prayer,  "Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,  I  pray 
the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep,"  is  more  potent  than 
a  magician's  spells. 

Childish,  you  say?  Yes,  but  I  am  writing 
now  for  those  who  are  children  in  these  things, 
be  they  seven  or  seventy. 

Of  all  countries  on  earth,  America  is  the 
most  abysmally  ignorant  of  the  dangers  of 
evil  magic.  Be  willing  to  be  children  until  you 
acquire  adult  knowledge  of  these  subjects. 

"I  am  in  no  danger,  for  I  understand  these 
things,"  is  often  said  with  self-gratulation  by 
these  who  are  in  the  very  grip  of  the  evil 
forces.  Truly,  a  little  knowledge  is  a  danger- 
ous thing. 

If  you  want  an  added  protection,  my  chil- 
dren, guard  your  own  evil  passions  and  resent- 
ful thoughts,  your  jealous  emotions  and  un- 
kind criticism  of  others.  The  devils  ride  on 
waves  of  anger  and  resentment. 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    309 

Beware  also  of  temptations,  remembering 
that  young  souls  are  tempted  through  their 
faults,  greater  souls  through  their  virtues. 

Be  not  deceived  into  saying  there  is  no  evil. 
Evil  is — so  long  as  good  is. 

"Beyond  good  and  evil"  is  a  state  to  which 
few  of  you  can  aspire,  and  you  have  no  con- 
ception of  it.  But  "beyond  good  and  evil" 
is  a  mighty  slogan  for  the  temptation  and  be- 
wilderment of  vain  souls. 

When  you  are  really  beyond  good  and  evil 
you  will  not  gossip  about  your  neighbors,  nor 
envy  them  their  charm  or  their  possessions,  nor 
try  to  use  them  for  your  own  ends,  nor  worry 
lest  some  evil  person  shall  do  you  harm,  nor 
twist  your  faults  till  they  seem  virtues,  nor 
deceive  yourself  as  to  your  motives. 

Examine  yourselves,  my  children.  Look 
for  your  faults.  If  you  can  find  no  fault  in 
yourself,  hang  your  harp  on  the  nearest  wil- 
low, for  your  progress  is  at  an  end. 

Man  progresses  through  recognizing  his 
faults,  through  transmuting  them  and  trans- 
cending them.  If  you  are  perfect,  this  world 
is  no  place  for  you. 

"Beyond  good  and  evil,"  indeed! 


310    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged.  But  do 
not  flirt  with  the  devil  to  prove  that  you  judge 
him  not. 

Yes,  all  men  are  your  brothers,  even  bad 
men.  Attend  to  your  own  affairs,  and  leave 
the  issue  with  God. 

This  much  to  you,  dear  children  of  the 
world,  from  my  vantage  place  above  your  pas- 
sions. 

July  25. 


LETTER  L 

THINGS  TO  REMEMBER 

the  contents  of  this  book  may  be- 
come the  possession  of  those  who  want 
it,  I  will  now  bring  it  to  a  close. 

One  might  go  on  writing  forever  about  the 
astral  incidents  of  this  war,  and  not  exhaust 
the  subject.  What  I  have  been  able  to  give 
is  a  mere  sketch,  a  few  incidents,  a  few  sug- 
gestions. 

These  things,  however,  bear  in  mind: 

That  there  are  angels  as  well  as  devils  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  battlefields. 

That  those  who  see  the  war  from  above  see 
causes  as  well  as  effects,  and  from  those  causes 
can  draw  sane  conclusions  based  on  a  richer 
fund  of  data  than  that  available  to  the  men  of 
earth. 

That  war,  like  everything  else,  has  its 
rhythms.  Do  not  be  discouraged  when  the 
pressure  of  battle  bears  heavily  on  the  side 
that  you  call  yours.  If  your  side  went  forward 


312    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

too  quickly,  you  would  need  to  look  for  a  vio- 
lent reaction,  as  in  the  retreat  from  the  out- 
skirts of  Paris. 

That  though  evil  is  a  necessity  so  long  as 
good  exists,  though  evil  is  the  other  pole  of  the 
magnet,  yet  it  is  the  duty  of  those  who  desire 
to  walk  the  White  Road  ever  to  do  battle  for 
the  right.  And  this  is  no  repudiation  of  the 
saying  of  the  Christ,  "Resist  not  evil."  A 
paradox,  you  say?  Great  wisdom  is  locked  in 
paradoxes,  for  those  who  have  the  key.  The 
existence  of  evil  gives  greater  strength  to  good. 
This  is  the  Kali  Yuga,  as  the  Hindoos  say. 

That  this  war  is  an  attempt  of  the  personal 
evil  forces  to  destroy  mankind.  A  former  at- 
tempt was  made  in  Europe  before  the  so-called 
Dark  Ages,  but  the  Renaissance  followed  and 
restored  the  balance. 

That  man  has  in  himself  both  the  Christ 
principle  and  the  demonic  principle;  that  will 
is  free,  and  that  man  can  make  his  choice  be- 
tween them. 

That  new  races  are  born  of  revolutions  and 
wars.  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear. 

That  though  I  may  have  a  wider  sight  than 
you,  I  do  not  know  everything.  I  draw  con- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    313 

elusions  from  premises,  the  same  as  you  do. 
I  predict  the  probable  effects  of  causes  known 
to  me;  but  a  sudden  irruption  of  free  and  er- 
ratic will  sets  up  a  new  cause,  and  my  calcula- 
tion has  to  be  made  afresh.  My  predictions  are 
not  the  result  of  divine  omniscience.  I  see 
further  than  you,  that  is  all.  My  logic  may  be 
no  better  than  yours.  For  instance,  when  we 
drove  back  the  forces  of  evil  during  the  early 
months  of  the  war,  I  forgot  the  Law  of 
Rhythm  that  would  enable  them  to  roll  for- 
ward again  when  they  had  generated  another 
supply  of  strength.  Even  devils  generate  their 
own  strength.  Yes,  they  too  are  Units  of 
Force,  and  must  be  figured  on  as  such.  I  shall 
not  make  that  mistake  again. 

My  Teacher,  who  stands  beside  me  at  this 
moment,  directs  me  to  say  that  even  the  Mas- 
ters do  not  know  everything.  As  my  vision  is 
wider  than  yours,  so  their  vision  is  wider  than 
mine;  but  they  cannot  always  see  what  goes 
on  in  the  farthest  stars.  They  invite  you  to 
become  like  them ;  but  they  know  that  you  are 
held  by  rhythmic  law,  and  that  for  every  two 
steps  you  take  toward  them,  you  will  fall  back 


314    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

at  least  one  step.  That  you  do  not  fall  back 
two  steps  is  because  of  your  free  will,  and  be- 
cause of  that  greater  rhythm  which  urges  man- 
kind to  the  flood-tide.  Each  achievement  is  a 
ripple  in  a  larger  wave  which  you  cannot  al- 
ways see. 

I  have  been  requested  to  write  further  of 
my  Teacher,  but  my  Teacher  wishes  to  remain 
in  the  background.  I  may  tell  you  this,  how- 
ever, O  world!  my  Teacher  still  has  a  physical 
body  and  walks  the  earth  as  a  man.  He  works 
in  both  the  material  and  the  astral  worlds,  and 
in  higher  worlds  beyond  them,  and  the  pur- 
poses of  his  life  are  outside  your  comprehen- 
sion. He  is  a  servant  of  the  Law,  and  his  joy 
is  in  working  with  the  Law.  The  Black  Mas- 
ters, for  there  are  Black  Masters,  work  against 
the  Law.  I  have  told  you  of  my  conversations 
with  one  of  them,  and  have  given  you  a  hint 
as  to  his  methods. 

When  you  are  strong,  you  need  not  fear 
the  Black  Masters.  You  may  pass  the  time  of 
day  with  them,  as  I  do.  They  are  far  more 
afraid  of  me  than  I  am  of  them.  I  do  not 
go  out  of  my  way  if  I  see  one  coming.  I  find 
them  rather  diverting,  though  I  recognize  the 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    315 

tragedy  of  their  lot.  They  fill  a  terrible  office, 
which  must  be  filled,  and  their  sufferings  are 
great.  They  are  the  erring  brothers  of  the 
White  Masters.  In  the  beginning  they  were 
trained  in  the  same  school;  but  the  great 
"moment  of  choice"  came,  and  the  evil  ones 
separated  themselves  from  their  source.  The 
White  Masters  do  not  seek  to  destroy  them, 
knowing  that  in  the  end  they  will  destroy  them- 
selves. Why  waste  effort  in  striving  to  hurry 
the  sunset? 

Do  not  let  the  black  Masters  and  their  ser- 
vants mislead  you,  and  avoid  them  if  you  can 
until  you  are  stronger  than  they.  But  when 
you  are  stronger  than  they,  you  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  them. 

When  they  cannot  affect  you  directly,  they 
strive  to  affect  you  through  those  you  love. 
Be  at  peace.  You  are  not  your  brother's 
keeper.  If  your  brother  delights  in  the  devil, 
let  him  have  the  pleasure  of  his  preference. 
Will  is  free. 

Give  testimony  of  the  truth  that  is  in  you; 
but  do  not  attempt  to  muzzle  the  hounds  that 
bay  the  summons  to  the  witches'  sabbath. 

Enter  the  Holy  Temple  and  shut  the  door; 


316    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

then  invoke  the  angels.  The  baying  of  the 
hounds  cannot  drown  the  music  of  the  angel 
voices. 

Be  still,  and  know  that  God  is  God. 

A  great  day  is  dawning  for  America — after 
a  time  of  trial.  The  sun  will  rise  from  behind 
a  bank  of  clouds;  but  in  the  freshness  of  the 
dawn  much  labor  will  be  done  for  the  new  race, 
and  for  the  Brotherhood  of  races.  All  over 
America  movements  will  be  started  for  the 
training  and  perfecting  of  mankind.  Give 
them  your  help,  for  thus  you  will  be  working 
with  the  Law.  Thus  you  will  be  learning  the 
first  lessons  in  the  school  of  the  White  Masters, 
whose  watchword  is  Service. 

Though  I  am  not  going  far  away  this  time, 
yet  I  leave  you  my  blessing,  O  world  that  I 
have  labored  and  suffered  f6r — far  more  than 
you  know  during  the  last  hard  year. 

And  I  want  to  thank  the  world  for  its  great 
interest  in  my  former  book,  "Letters  from 
a  Living  Dead  Man."  Yes,  I  am  living  still, 
and  am  far  more  alive  than  when  I  wrote  for 
you  before.  Little  by  little  I  am  growing  into 
an  intensity  of  life  which  I  could  not  have  im- 


WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN    317 

agined  when  I  walked  the  earth  as  a  man 


among  men. 


In  these  War  Letters  from  the  other  world 
I  have  tried  to  give  you  glimpses  of  that  in- 
tenser  life  which  I  lead  now,  after  my  return 
from  the  journey  among  the  stars.  I  had 
thought  to  tell  you  of  that  journey  when  I 
should  return  again;  but  the  story  would  not 
have  been  so  instructive  at  the  present  time 
as  this  story  of  the  war  in  the  astral  world. 
For  you  are  nearer  the  astral  world  than  you 
are  to  the  stars,  and  until  you  learn  the  a-b-c 
you  cannot  read  and  understand  romances. 

I  am  only  a  humble  servant  of  the  Law,  a 
learner  in  the  school  of  those  who  are  wiser 
than  I.  To  get,  I  must  give.  To  learn,  I 
must  teach.  To  go  forward,  I  must  try  to 
bring  you  forward  with  me. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  that  what  the  world 
needed  most  at  the  present  time  was  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  mysteries  behind  this  war.  I  have 
been  an  unseen  soldier  in  this  war,  in  which  I 
have  received  many  a  wound.  I  have  had  my 
nights  of  vigil  and  my  days  of  labor;  but  they 
have  given  me  a  strength  that  I  could  not 
otherwise  have  gained.  I  am  strong  because 
I  have  served. 


318    WAR  LETTERS  FROM  THE  LIVING  DEAD  MAN 

Serve  you,  and  the  reward  will  come  in  due 
season ! 

I  am  going  to  rest  now  for  a  little  while,  be- 
cause I  have  another  service  to  perform  in  the 
near  future. 

I  shall  not  go  far  away. 

"X." 

July  28,  1915. 

THE  END. 


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